4. Living In the Mild Mild West
The Mild West, or at least the parts the impromptu herd were trotting through, consisted of rolling, dry, flat plains as far as the eye could see. Yellow grass with only a few hints of green was the dominant feature, with the occasional scrub bush or short, hardy tree. There was little protection from the Sun, but then at this time of the year it at least wasn’t too hot. It also meant, though, that there was little to do or see other than each other. Which suited most of the herd just fine – they were none of them unsociable beings – but after just an hour of travel…
“I still don’t understand,” Little Strongheart said once more, eyeing Bloomberg.
Applejack was a stubborn mare and more than willing to start explaining the necessity of bringing an eight-ton apple tree to the de Maíz’s village once again using slightly different wording. Fetter Keys, however, jumped in before she could. “’Cause we ain’t got noplace to leave it back in Monte Rey,” he said.
“An’ mah cuz is a bit crazy,” Braeburn said as well. Applejack glared at him, but Braeburn only laughed. “Ah think we all are! A rodeo stallion, three farmers, a bison trader, a mail-mare, one marshal all by his lonesome, an’ a tree, all goin’ t’ take on a band a’ thirty banditos. We’d have t’ be crazy.” He smiled widely, and wildly. “Only way this’ll work.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Ditzy ventured from above. With so much open, flat ground and nothing else in the sky besides the occasional bird, she was taking full advantage of the freedom to soar and glide to her heart’s content without fear of hitting anything, something she had little space to do in the more hilly, tree-filled environment of Ponyville. In fact she had barely flapped her wings once taking to the air, instead only adjusting them minutely to catch every little thermal and zephyr and buoy herself comfortably a few dozen feet above them, though she flew down a little lower so that she could be heard easier. “At least they’re just normal, regular beings. We might even be able to reason with them.”
“That is unlikely, señorita,” Mazorca called up to the pegasus. “King Longhon has been active in this region for years now, ever since the war. He will not give up so easily. Y, many of his beings have known no other lives either.”
Ditzy frowned at that. “That can’t be true,” she insisted as she banked slightly to catch a slight breeze to keep herself aloft. “No being can be one thing, all the time. And I refuse to believe that anyone would choose to be a bandit unless they didn’t think there were other options.”
“Well, we’ll try,” Fetter Keys said. “Just don’t go and expect much in the way a’ results. An’ even if we do get results, they’ll still have t’ pay for what they’ve done over the years.”
Ditzy nodded, not denying that. Kindness didn’t mean ‘instant forgiveness’, after all. She soared back up a little higher with just her wings catching the thermals with the slightest adjustment of her primaries, watching as the horizon seemed to expand before her as she did, giving her a commanding view of the Mild West. Mostly, it was miles and miles of miles and miles, but to a pegasus – or at least to Ditzy – that was an incredible sight. There was just so much space, so much room, almost enough to even make her forget that the view from the ground, and the rear of their herd, wasn’t so bad either, albeit not for the landscape. She didn’t suppress her foalish giggle at that thought as she let herself drift back just a smidge and looked to where Big Mac and Braeburn trotted alongside one another. No, it wasn’t a bad view at all…
---
Carrot Top saw Braeburn glance behind him and up, and looked herself. Ditzy had climbed to two or three hundred feet in the air and allowed herself to drift backwards a bit, following them almost like a kite in the breeze. Mostly her eyes were focused on the air around her, but sometimes she looked down at the herd…at where one pony in particular was.
The farmer felt her fur bristle at that, and she looked away from Ditzy so that she wouldn’t be glowering. Clearing her throat a little, she picked up her trot so that she could sidle up next to Braeburn, albeit not too close. “S-so,” she said. “You’re from Appaloosa?”
Braeburn nodded, though he glanced Little Strongheart’s way as he did. The small buffalo cow wasn’t looking at them, but her ears had swiveled their way – she was paying attention. “New Appaloosa…an’ Ah I was at the old one, too.”
Carrot Top thought a little about that. “I’d heard something happened…a disagreement with the buffalo, or something.” She shook her head. “What happened?”
“Long story short?” Braeburn asked. “Damned foolishness from beginnin’ t’ the end. Ponies buildin’ a town where there shouldn’t a’ been one, right in the way of a bison herd’s migration path.” Braeburn sighed a little. “Some bison tribes don’t settle down much, live as nomads, but that don’t mean nothin’. Imagine if somepony came t’ Ponyville an’ just started blockin’ the streets with new buildins’. Then gets ornery when you object to it. Folks buildin’ Appaloosa didn’t think to make sure the town was outta the way. Or more like, didn’t care. Buncha bison of the Black Rock tribe come by two years later, see the town…”
Braeburn got quiet, then, but by now Little Strongheart had come over, and nodded at him. “There was foolishness on the part of my kind as well,” she said. Braeburn looked grateful at not having to point hooves in accusation. “A town cannot be picked up and moved quickly, and while we bison know our paths through the Mild West, they are often not marked in a way that ponies could see.” She looked to Carrot Top. “The town should not have been built where it was. But the Black Rock should have given the ponies more than one day to collect their belongings and leave before stampeding.”
“Why was it built at all?” Carrot Top asked.
“Good farmland,” Braeburn said. “Bison don’t tend to much care what happens outside their paths, long as it won’t hurt ‘em. An’ ever since the war Caballeria’s been drawin’ down its military. Lotta ponies need new work that don’t involve pointin’ sharp objects at other folk. The Apple Trust was contracted t’ help set everythin’ up, but didn’t do ‘nuff research into the place.”
Carrot Top fought down another bout of jealousy at that, knowing that it would be incredibly out-of-place and wrong of her. Still…the Apple Trust was large and wealthy enough that it could be contracted to establish entire towns? She instead focused on Braeburn and Little Strongheart, who both looked more than a little maudlin at the subject matter. “B-but New Appaloosa is doing fine, right?” She asked.
Braeburn brightened at that. “Eeyup. Few miles away. Land’s not quite so good, but give earth pony magic time. An’ the Apple Trust don’t want repeat mistakes with any new towns, so they got folk workin’ with bison tribes now, learnin’ the migration patterns, tradin’ with ‘em more too.”
Little Strongheart nodded back to her saddlebags – she’d clearly personally benefitted from the increased trade, as her bags were now loaded down with various goods and sundries that were difficult for nomadic wanderers to make. “Change is…new to my people. We are always slow to embrace it. But the world beyond the Mild West is changing, and we will not be left behind.”
Carrot Top nodded a little at that, understanding the sentiment well enough – it was relevant to the small farming town of Ponyville too, after all. She looked once more to Braeburn. “So what about you?” She asked.
Braeburn looked away from Little Strongheart, and to Carrot Top. “What about me?” He asked.
“Well…” Carrot Top said, in what she hoped was a leading fashion, “if we’re going to be defending a town from bandits together, I’d like to get to know you more as a pony.” She smiled in a way that was very friendly, and asked in as casual and conversational a voice as possible, “any special somponies?”
The yellow stallion apparently believed that she was just being inquisitive. “Not recently,” he said. “Work in New Appaloosa’s kept me busy. Not that I’m sayin’ I’m necessarily out of the market, mind.” As he said this, he looked to the horizon and flicked his mane a little, causing it to positively glow as it caught the sunlight.
Carrot Top did her best to suppress a contented sigh at the sight.
---
Applejack and Big Mac saw what Braeburn did with three of the four females in the group looking on longingly, exchanged a glance with one another, and then as one rolled their eyes. The worst part was that Braeburn didn’t even notice the effect he was having on most of the female members of their little herd – although not always noticing the attention they got was something of a recurring trait among Apple stallions, Applejack mused as she glanced at Ditzy soaring through the sky just a little behind them. And that was in spite of Big Mac doing a terrible job hiding the shine he had for the mare…
Personally Applejack would have preferred if Big Mac had taken a fancy to a fellow farming pony, somepony who could come to Sweet Apple Acres and help work the land; she didn’t see Ditzy ever quitting the post office. But who her brother took a shine to and who he didn’t wasn’t really her business beyond making sure that the pony was a good one, and Ditzy Doo left no doubts where that was concerned. She must have once been a darned fool of a mare to have had little Dinky Doo so young, but then it wasn’t like the Apple family as a whole didn’t have a plethora of darned fool mares and stallions in the family tree itself – hay, her own parents – and Ditzy had clearly grown as a pony as a result of it.
The earth pony suppressed an annoyed wicker at her thoughts. It was a bit early to be hearing wedding bells; so far all Ditzy and Big Mac had done was exchange kind words and stood a bit closer to each other at social gatherings than was entirely polite for friends. And she needed to focus on the task at hoof. After making sure Bloomberg was okay for the time being, Applejack cantered over to Fetter Keys. “So, you’ve done this sort a’ thing before, right?” she asked.
Fetter Keys offered a slight shrug. “Marched t’ mah certain doom? No, Ah’ve made it a point to avoid doin’ that.” He chuckled, and Applejack couldn’t help but share in the mirth. “Ah’ve been in tussles and scuffles, sure, when makin’ an arrest. Enlisted in the army back durin’ the war, but by the time Ah made it through trainin’ Caballeria had surrendered. Came down for peacekeepin’, mustered out as a corporal, then joined the marshals.”
“You remember basic trainin’?” Applejack asked, just to be sure, and then got a confirming nod. “That’s good. When we get to town, you’re gonna need to organize the townsfolk into a proper militia.”
Fetter Keys almost missed a step at that. “Beg pardon?” He asked incredulously. “Miss Applejack, the whole point of us seven commin’ down is so as the townsfolk don’t have t’ fight themselves, ain’t it?”
“Sure, six ponies an’ the smallest buffalo cow Ah’ve ever seen against thirty banditos.” The farmer rolled her eyes once more, taking a moment to glance over the dry and dusty Mild West plain that surrounded them. “That’ll go real swell.”
“And a tree,” Fetter Keys observed dryly.
Applejack felt prickling on her side, and realized she’d stepped close enough to Bloomberg for his branches to poke at her. “He ain’t a fighter,” she said with finality, “but the villagers asked for help in learnin’ how t’ fight, right? Last thing they want is King Longhorn out only for another bandito t’ show up an’ pick up where he left off.”
Fetter Keys considered that for a moment before nodding, conceding the point. He looked forward, at the two de Maíz stallions leading them to their town. “Well, Ah’ve seen worse lookin’ recruits. Was one mahself. But we ain’t got time for nothin’ fancy. Basic trainin’ in the army is ten weeks, we’ll be lucky t’ get three – plus it’s been awhile for me, y’know?”
Applejack nodded. “Right, here’s what Ah know about the town…” she spent a few minutes going over what the de Maízes had told her of their home, and her own thoughts on how to organize a defense – one pony at each of the cardinal points with a troop of local townsfolk, two ponies in the center of town to reinforce as needed, and a third staying in the center to organize everything. She also outlined some of her thoughts for defensive measures, based on what she’d been told about the terrain.
Fetter Keys let out a low whistle. “Well, you got everything figured out, boss. I’mma be callin’ you boss, by the way, on account of you bein’ the leader of this little shindig.”
Applejack blinked a few times at that. “Leader?” she asked. “Ah thought you’d be the leader. You’re the marshal.”
“Well, seein’ as mah plan up to this point amounted to just gettin’ the locals to make a bunch of pointed sticks, pointin’ ‘em at the banditos, an’ hopin’ for the best, Ah’d say that ain’t a job Ah’m qualified for.” He paused a moment, then patted down the loose jacket he wore before letting out a low curse. “Darn, Ah meant t’ grab some deputy badges, but I left ‘em back in Monte Rey. Well, Ah’m here, so y’all are deputies anyway. Any other marshal shows up and tries t’ tell ya that y’all are actin’ as vigilantes, just give ‘em mah name.” He smirked at Applejack. “Then get ‘em t’ lend a hoof.”
Applejack smiled herself, and nodded. “Will do.”
---
The herd travelled with light conversation to pass the time for most of the rest of the day, and made camp next to a stand of a few dozen bur oak trees that must have been tapping a deep well for water. In spite of the apple tree that Big Mac was lugging, the de Maíz ponies informed the group that they’d made good time, and would likely be reaching their hometown some time the following evening if they could keep up the pace, which nopony (or bison) could think of a reason why they wouldn’t. None of the beings present were opposed to grazing on the grass of the Mild West, which wasn’t the most nutritious option but also meant they hadn’t needed to carry any supplies with them. Water that was as fresh as could be was provided by Ditzy, who rounded up a few wild cirrus clouds from high in the sky and burst them open over waiting canteens, though she hadn’t been able to gather enough to stop Applejack fretting over Bloomberg. The fallen branches around the bur oaks had also been plentiful enough to get a decent camp fire going.
Once everypony had settled down a bit, Braeburn took the opportunity to mosey over to where Little Strongheart was standing, a few hundred feet from the fire. In one of the more awkward things he’d ever felt the need to do, he coughed into one hoof to get her attention. “So…” he said. “Not sure how t’ say this right, but…thanks, for bein’ so understandin’ about what happened at Appaloosa.”
She looked to him, then nodded as she looked back out across the Mild West plains, glancing up occasionally at the stars overhead. “It was not my tribe,” she said. “As I said, the Black Rock are at least somewhat to blame. Some good may come of it, even, in the long run, for both ponies and bison.” After another moment’s consideration, she looked back to Braeburn “Thank you as well, Braeburn, for calling my people bison.” She shook her head. “I cannot even begin to guess how it is that ponies started calling us buffalo when none even live on this continent…”
Braeburn chuckled at that, cantering up to stand next to Little Strongheart. “Kinda’ got that distinction pounded into me. Ah’ll talk t’ everyone else ‘bout it. Speakin’ of, would you prefer Cikala-Cante-Wasake?”
Little Strongheart shook her head. “I am used to Bison and Equestrian versions of my name. Pequeña Corazón-Fuerte as well, in Caballerian.” She offered a small, almost guilty smile. “But Little Strongheart is my favorite. I think it makes me sound exotic.”
It didn’t sound that exotic to Braeburn, but he guessed that had something to do with Equestrian being his native tongue. They stood in silence for a few minutes, just watching the stars. Braeburn was about to speak, but then then Little Strongheart’s turned slightly, looking off to the side and to the edge of the copse of trees where they’d made camp, eyes widening. “Haho!” she whispered excitedly. “I knew he was about…”
The bison started moving slowly towards the copse, Braeburn watching. “Uh…somethin’ Ah should be concerned about? A rattler or somethin’?” The last thing he needed was to learn that they’d set up camp near a rattlesnake colony…
Little Strongheart shook her head, however, though she didn’t look at him. “Hiyá. No. Please give me a moment…” As Braeburn watched, she advanced up to the edge of the copse of trees, one hoof going to the saddlebags she still wore and taking out what looked and smelled an awful lot like a granola bar. Each step that the bison made took several moments, as though she were approaching a frightened or at least unsure animal, though Braeburn couldn’t see a thing. At length, Little Strongheart set the bar down on the ground, then backed away slowly and settled into a sitting position. Braeburn decided to copy the motion.
“Hiyú we,” Little Strongheart intoned to whatever she was looking at. “Miyelo ca kola, hiyú we…”
She was asking something to come out from where it was hiding, and Braeburn finally realized what he was looking at. He suppressed the urge to vocalize it and instead hunkered down a little more, not wanting to ruin Little Strongheart’s efforts. After several more minutes, the granola bar (or whatever it was) that she’d set down seemed to move on its own, lifting itself up slightly and then disappearing entirely with a faint shimmer. Another long wait, and then something shimmered into being where the bar had been – a small creature, looking almost like a prairie dog, but with iridescent fur that glimmered in the faint starlight and fire-light from the camp over yonder, and the bushy tail of a coyote. After a moment, it hopped towards Little Strongheart, but its motion was almost like someone had lowered the gravity for it, or it was underwater – it bounded forward like it was floating, and when it stopped it still hovered just a few inches off of the ground. To top everything off, it was see-through, at least partially.
“Well Ah’ll be,” Braeburn said softly, as Little Strongheart extended a hoof to the effervescent creature. “So you’re one a’ them shamans. That’s what you meant when you said you always had friends t’ help you.”
Little Strongheart smiled as the spirit animal sniffed at her hoof, then bounded up and over her back, though its feet still didn’t actually touch anything. “Yes,” she said, looking to Braeburn. “You know that this is no ghost, then?”
Braeburn nodded. Spirits were genius loci, the native creatures and protectors of a given place or object. They weren’t ghosts or wraiths – though some ponies thought they were, and that the bison who called them were wicked necromancers – but rather a distinct, ephemeral creature that inhabited a world that was near to and somehow bound up with the material one. Braeburn didn’t know all of the details beyond the fact that the spirits seemed to have a special relationship with bison, some of whom – shamans – could call them up and offer them gifts in exchange for help, usually with finding sources of water, or scouting out an area that they weren’t certain was safe.
“What’s his name?” Braeburn asked.
Little Strongheart shook her head. “Spirits don’t have names as you and I do. If I were to ask, he would simply indicate this place,” she nodded towards the trees. She looked them over. “My people call this place Standing Trees, so I suppose that is the spirit’s name as well.” She laughed a little as the spirit bounded around her and towards her saddlebags, looking for more food. She shoo’d it away gently. “Habye! You have been fed! And I have asked nothing of you!”
Braeburn chuckled as well. The spirit seemed insistent on getting more, but Little Strongheart just stood and trotted away to join Braeburn further from the trees. The spirit followed for a few feet, but then stopped as though it had encountered a physical wall – the limits of its place. It couldn’t go any further without aid, which Little Strongheart wasn’t giving. After a few minutes of trying, the spirit let out an annoyed huff, then disappeared.
Braeburn and Little Strongheart both chuckled again at the sight. “He ain’t gonna hold a grudge, is he?” the stallion asked.
Little Strongheart shook her head. “The spirit of Standing Trees is a simple one. If I were to call him again, he would only remember that I gave him a gift.” She nodded to herself. “It is good that he was awake. If we had camped here and I had not given him something, I don’t doubt he would have made some mischief the next time I came through. Missing wares, half-eaten food…” she shook her head, clearly speaking from personal experience.
Braeburn and Little Strongheart started over to the rest of the herd. “If we are lucky,” the bison said, “then the de Maíz’s village will have spirits near it who are willing to help. Perhaps I could even convince a few to ride with me.”
The stallion didn’t know what Little Strongheart meant by that, but he supposed he’d figure out sooner or later. “If’n ya don’t mind me askin’, what’re the odds that King Longhorn’s band will have a shaman in it?”
“Low,” Little Strongheart said. “We are not many. But…it is not impossible, and spirits are not as concerned with matters of right and wrong as we are. If King Longhorn has a shaman who has already befriended the spirits, it will make it much more difficult to entice them.” She bowed her head. “I am more concerned with the ponies’ reactions. I have been accused of necromancy before.”
She looked at Braeburn pointedly, and he knew what she was driving at. “Ah won’t tell nopony, promise,” he said.
Little Strongheart looked at him oddly. “So you will tell somepony?” she asked.
“No, Ah…” Braeburn began, but then noticed the bison smiling at him. “Oh, har har. You gonna call me on that, Ah’m gonna start insistin’ you use contractions.” He gave a playful bump with his flank as he finished.
“Should that not be y’all?” Little Strongheart countered, returning the bump, then dodging Braeburn’s next attempt. She took off at a gallop, laughing back at him as Braeburn gave chase.
---
Tallo de Maíz looked at the herd that he and his father had managed to gather. Applejack and Fetter Keys were deep in conversation, discussing strategy, with Big MacIntosh adding his own thoughts now and then. Ditzy Doo and Carrot Top were nearby as well, Ditzy helping Carrot Top with some of the ingredients and reagents she had bought back in Mont Rey, mixing something together. And Braeburn and Little Strongheart had returned from their excursion and seemed to be more comfortable around each other than they had been – Tallo decided to not make guesses as to why that could be.
What was more important, though, was their attitudes. None of them looked frightened, concerned, or nervous, as Tallo and Mazorca were. Despite the knowledge that they would soon be standing up to King Longhorn and his band of thirty banditos, they all seemed determined and at-ease. Then again, given that two of them were the Elements of Harmony, had fought evil necromancers and powerful dragons and emerged triumphant, Tallo supposed that it wasn’t surprising that they were so unconcerned – and if Tallo had been as large as Big Mac, he certainly wouldn’t fear much, either.
“Father, I think this might actually work,” Tallo said. “Looking at them…I think they could take on King Longhorn all by themselves!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mazorca cautioned his son. “I am certain we, and everypony else in the village, will have many long days of work ahead of us.” At Tallo’s faltering look, Mazorca held up a hoof. “But we certainly have a better chance than we ever did on our own. We can stop King Longhorn.”
Tallo nodded, and smiled. “I can’t wait until we get back to the village and show everypony. And I’m glad we listened to Zecora.”
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Obligatory:
;)
Anyway, great to see you back! And hey, character development is good. :) Nice to see I'm not the only one to 'ship Braeburn/Strongheart. I wish she had returned to the show. Anyway, great chapter!
Well, it was worth the wait.
That being said, a few observations.
1) Good to know that AJ isn't all Company Mane ALL the time.
2) I wonder how big a clue-by-four L!Bright Mac needed given what we see here.
3) My guess is that when the dust settles and somepony
finally gets over herself, a subordinate with a penchant for rhyming is going to need a place to live and judging from this, I think she's settled on an area.
Glad to have you back!
Trust me, I get that spiral that keeps your from writing when you realize how long it's been. But I'm glad one of my favorite writers on this site updated a story I have a special interest in--being a fan of Braeburn and Zecora.
Love this world you've created. It's inspired so much.
It's.....AAALLLIIIIVVVEEE!!!!!!!
Glad to hear you are out your funk. Also throwing Zecora in? Was planned from the start?
8969529
I mean...she's in chapter 1.
8969769
Oh yeah sorry my bad the story in its entire has kinda slipped away because hiatus. ^^'
This was fun, definitely worth the wait
I especially liked the scene with Braeburn and Lil' Strongheart, it felt really natural and sweet. And the spirit stuff seems cool.
I too am glad this is back
It's good to see you back. I completely understand where you're coming from. Life happens and bad years are sometimes unavoidable. Still I enjoyed this chapter. Good character development and laying the ground work for what is to come. Nicely done.
Ah
_____________
Glad you're feeling better. We've missed you and your AU.