Looking For Trouble

by CoffeeMinion

Chapter 2: Looking For Trouble

I’ve been drifting most of these last ten years. Y’know, since what happened here at Canterlot High. Never actually figured I’d come down this way, considering what all I've heard about that big fight between the demon-girl who wanted to break the world, and the angel-girl who couldn’t quite stop her. They say there's still strange bursts of uncontrolled magic coming up out of this place. I guess I don’t know if that's true or not, but the world ended up goin' to Tartarus in a handbasket anyway. At least there’s no shortage of work for big fellas that look like they can throw some muscle around…

I don’t much care for hurting folks, though, and I’m also what you’d call a bit klutzy, so I don't tend to last too long on most people’s payroll. I’m sure I’d still be wandering if I hadn’t stumbled through those big couple of ramshackle towns up north callin’ themselves “The Crystal Empire.” Leader’s this gal named Abacus Cinch. Speaking personally, she gives me the heebie-jeebies, but her people pay good and they don’t do too wrong by ordinary folk. And let me tell ya, after some of what I’ve seen out in the desert, that ain’t bad at all. I got by doing odd jobs for a while, but when they posted up for deputies to help check out a new lead on an old case, and sure enough I volunteered.

Sheriff said that Cinch had a bunch of magically reactive scraps stolen by a fella named Blueblood a few years back. I guess it’s in lil’ pieces that most folks would mistake for silver nuggets, but it’s dangerous to handle, and could be real bad news in the wrong hands. Now I reckon I didn’t get the whole story about it, but after Blueblood up and disappeared with it, the Empire started checking silver coming in, real quiet-like. Guess they’d only ever seen a couple bits of it pop up, and it was with merchants who didn’t know what it was or who they’d got it from. But then about a month back, Sheriff busts a merchant for dealing in stolen goods, and he turns up all kinds of things—a bunch more nuggets, and a pocket watch with a compass rose etched on the side. The merchant swore he got it fair and square from folks down south, but the Sheriff recognized the watch as Blueblood’s, and he didn’t reckon Blueblood would’ve let it go willingly.

So that all’s why I had a lead-lined box in my satchel. The gun’s easier to explain: they had all the deputies take one. I swear I never wanted it, though; figured I’d be just as likely to end up shooting myself as anything if I ever tried to use it.

Just my luck, probably gonna end up getting shot with it after all.

I s’pose the other thing you’ll want to know about is Miss Ditzy, though. Now I’d just come in on the noon stage and dropped off a couple things at that hotel of yours, and was starting to poke around town a bit. You know, not real serious; just gettin’ the lay of the land and such. Without really trying, I found myself over by the tin shack y’all use as a schoolhouse ‘round the time kids were getting out. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but… well, then I saw her.

Now I don’t want to be ungentlemanly ‘bout how I talk about her, but you gotta understand, I ain’t the type to just go chasing after any woman who walks by. I’ve long since figured I was gonna run off anyone I got near, what with how much of a mess I tend to make of things. But from the moment I laid eyes on her, I could tell that she was different. And it wasn’t just her slight but toned figure, or her dress a few shades lighter than her grey skin, or the golden straw hat just about the color of her hair. It wasn’t even how she smiled and talked to the big buncha kids milling around her by the school. I think, if I’m bein’ honest, it was her eyes. I know y’all know what I mean, too: golden, warm, and Harmony bless ‘em if they could both stay pointed in the same direction for more’n two seconds at a time.

Reckon that I could’ve stood and stared at her forever, but then I saw her trip over a kid who’d bent down to tie their shoes, and she ended up spilling a whole big stack of books outta her arms. And I suppose that might’ve been the thing that got me to work up the courage to go over and talk to her.

“Need a hand, ma’am?” I asked her, and I offered mine.

The look she gave me was guarded at first, with her mouth in a cute lil’ “o” and her eyes all wide and pointed every which-way but straight at me. The kids all went silent, too; prolly didn’t think twice about having some stranger pass through town until I was right there talking to her. And she was sweating too, though that might’ve just been ’cuz it was hot as Tartarus that day.

But then she smiled. Let me tell you, even if y’all end up shooting me, coming here would almost still be worth it for that smile. It was small but welcoming, and it showed off her right pretty dimples. And then she stretched her hand up and put it in mine, and the warmth of that lil’ hand just made me even hotter under the collar than the day had already done. I met her eyes—more or less—and my heart started thumpin’, and I wanted that moment to last forever.

Then of course I lost my balance trying to pull her up and ended up falling flat on my face right next to her, which got a good laugh out of the school kids. I ‘spose the good news was I caught her full name of “Ditzy Doo” from one of ‘em. It’s pretty, though I reckon it’s about as inauspicious as my own.

But then I felt her hands on my sides, and she rolled me over on my back, and I tell ya, she was looking at me with her face a whole lot closer than I felt was appropriate.

“You okay, mister?” she asked.

And looking up at her, I couldn’t hardly think to put two words together, so I just said, “Yep.”

She said a few things after that, but for the life of me I can’t remember ‘em. I just remember watching like it was a movie as the kids helped her up, and helped her with her books, and they all ushered themselves off down the way, leaving me down on my butt on the cracked road.

Figured it was high time for a drink at that point. Good news was I didn’t have to look much farther than across the street to find a sign saying “Berry’s Booze.” Bad news was, I didn’t hardly make it in the door before the barkeep told me: “Best steer clear of the schoolteacher if you know what’s good for you, stranger.”

I looked across the empty barroom, blinked the sun out of my eyes, and saw her standing behind that right gorgeous mahogany bar full o’bottles. Biggest bunch of booze I’ve seen most anywhere in a long time. Pity that Miss Berry ain’t half as easy on the eyes, though. I mean, I ain’t in much of a position to judge, but she’s got just about the craggiest face I’ve ever seen on somebody so young. And, I reckon she’s only just my age, give or take, but that look in her eyes is like she’s seen some things. More’n most, is what I mean.

“I’m just looking for a drink,” I said.

“Like Tartarus you are,” she said, shaking her head. “That kind of stunt might work with her, but no one else is falling for it. Canterlot takes care of our own, and that goes double where she’s concerned.”

“Now I’ll beg your pardon, ma’am,” I said. “I lived in Appleoosa before the world went belly-up, and we always said good neighbors kept an eye out for each other. I don’t doubt that you’re just doin’ that for her, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it all the same. But I ain’t here looking to make trouble with your womenfolk. Like I said, I just could use a drink. Maybe… bourbon, if ya got one?”

“I got bourbon,” she said, turning and reaching for a higher shelf. But as she did that, I noticed that there was a lil’ tremor in her reaching-hand. Coulda been that she was tired or something, or it coulda been more like some heavy drinkers that I’ve known, who went through shakes and worse before they finally found the end of their last bottle.

Still though, that smoky glass of goodness looked inviting as she poured it, and all I could think about was how I needed something to get my mind off the way Miss Ditzy looked out in that sunshine.

But Miss Berry kept the glass close, and she asked me, “So what are you in town for, stranger?”

“I’m just looking for a man named Blueblood who might’ve passed through some time ago,” I said, not takin’ my eyes off that bourbon.

She got real quiet for a moment, then asked: “You a friend of his or something?”

That’s when I took out my badge and said: “No, ma’am. He’s a criminal. A silver-thief. And I’ve been sent to bring him in.”

For a while she just stood there, cradling the glass. Then she set it down and walked right up to me. “Like I just said, stranger, we take care of our own. That means we don’t hold with thugs who come through looking to make trouble, whether they’ve got badges or not.” And we locked eyes, and I could see up close that what I thought were wrinkles or what-have-you were actually scars. It’s a miracle that both her eyes seemed good considering how bad the rest of her face looked.

Which, of course, was stupid of me to stare at. She saw me looking and just brushed a finger over ‘em—her middle one, you understand—and said, “You oughtta see the other guy. Now if you want booze, I’ve got booze; but if you want to come through and upset things, you just might end up meeting Sunset. And trust me, friend, you don’t want Sunset getting interested in you.”

At that point I just tipped my hat and said, “Maybe I’ll pass on that drink after all, ma’am.”