The train’s smoke could be seen before anything else came into sight or before the whistles could be heard.  The residents of Ponyville treated this as normal; the mail train always came around on weekends from Canterlot and so the sight of smoke simply meant that either royal or distant mail was on its way.  Thus, the train went largely ignored as normal business went on.  As it came closer, whistles could be heard echoing around through the valley as the smoke became clearer and thicker, a large white plume billowing up and eventually dissipating into the clear blue sky.

A young, grey pegasus mailmare with a blonde mane left the Ponyville post office to go and collect the mail from the train.  She had just gained the job and was on her second mail train run.  She was told to expect the bag of mail to go flying out; Ponyville was small and usually only had one bag of mail so the mail was thrown out of the train while it sped through to places south.  The mare chosen was young but strong; her cock-eyed look had gotten a lot of laughs out of the others working with her; but she had caught the bag on her first time and hadn’t lost any mail.  Now she was the default for working the mail train.  The mare reached the platform at Ponyville station with at least a few minutes before the train arrived, the whistles getting louder and the puffs of smoke becoming more and more pronounced as the train approached.

Not long now, the mare thought.  She steeled herself and planted her hooves firmly on the platform, wings spreading out and flapping expectantly as she waited for the train to draw near.  The train started the first of three short whistles, the sign for the mail to be dropped, and the mare dropped down.  The second whistle came and the leg muscles tensed.  The third whistle came and the mare jumped into the air, flapping her wings until her chest was facing the oncoming train and her hooves were outstretched to accept the flying mail bag.

But the third whistle was not the normal short, sharp sound it usually was.  This time it was long and drawn out; the mare was caught off-guard by the noise and stopped flapping her wings, causing her to fall on her back on the platform.  She righted herself and noticed the train was coming slower; the whistle had been for a stop and not for a mail train.  The pegasus focused her lazy eye and looked out at the oncoming train; five solid boxcars were behind the engine like their usually was, but this time there was a sixth car just behind the tender: a passenger car.  It wasn’t usual for someone to arrive out this way, yet the train was slowing down to a stop all the same.  The train eventually stopped and two of the cars opened; the first boxcar and the door of the passenger car.  For the moment, the mailmare ignored the passenger car and went to the first boxcar where a unicorn was standing at the door holding a large grey and brown bag marked ‘PONYVILLE’ in black ink.

“You’re the postman that usually comes from Canterlot, aren’t you?” the mailmare asked as she approached.  “The mail train doesn’t usually stop around here.  I only saw it stop here once when I was a filly in school.”

“You must be Derpy Hooves,” the unicorn said in reply.  “Fantastic catch last time we came through here; your superior sent mail to us regarding that performance.  Anyways, sorry for throwing you off stopping here like this; we’ve had a passenger from Appleoosa getting off here.”  He levitated the bag to the pegasus, who jumped into it and adjusted it on her back.  “From now on, you’ll be catching the mail.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Derpy said with a smile.  She waved to the unicorn, who closed the boxcar, then headed off down the platform to where someone was getting off the train.

Out from the passenger car came a young, lanky colt, tentatively stepping onto the mostly empty platform.  He had a gold coat with a short but wavy and silky gold and blonde mane and his green eyes were shaded by a Stetson hat that seemed a bit too large for his head and caused him to keep adjusting it so that it didn’t block his sight.  On his small flank was already a cutie mark: a large red apple.

The train attendant came out and went over to the first boxcar and knocked on it until the unicorn opened the door again, peeking out and seeing the young colt before going back in and popping out a second later with a small cart with a harness holding a few bags and a rather ornate wooden box.  The harness was attached to the colt and the boxcar closed once again; the attendant returned to the car and blew his whistle before stepping into the train.  The engine whistled loudly and the train slowly started to move.  It wasn’t long before the train gave a final whistle and sped off out of Ponyville, leaving Derpy alone on the platform with the colt.

Derpy would have left him there and continued on with her business, but the colt looked so confused that Derpy couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived all on his own.  She walked up to the colt and tapped him on the shoulder.  “Hello, there,” she said as friendly as she could.  “What are you doing here on your own?”

The colt looked over to Derpy smiling at him and gulped.  “I’m looking for my grandmother’s house here in Ponyville,” he said, voice carrying a certain twang in it’s high pitch; he may have had his cutie mark but he was still quite young.  “My mom is back home in Dodge Junction but wanted me to come here to get away for a little while she took care of things back home.”

“Oh… um, I could help you.  Do you know your grandmother’s name?”

The colt nodded, looking a little brighter.  “Yes.  Her name’s Granny Smith.”

“Oh, I know her!” Derpy said.  “She lives at Sweet Apple Acres; I’ve been there a couple of times on my mail route.  Come with me; I can take you there real quick before heading back to my job.”

“You’d do that for me?” the colt said, now actually giving a little smile.  “Thank you very much, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Derpy,” the pegasus said as they started walking along out of the station.  “I’m the mailmare around here and everyone else knows me and I know everyone.  I’m pretty sure you’ll get to know everyone here, too.”

“I hope so,” the colt said as he walked alongside, the little cart with his bags rolling along behind him.  “Mom didn’t say how long it would be until she was finished and I could come back.  I might be going to school here next year.”

“Oh, it probably won’t take that long,” Derpy tried to say reassuringly.  “Besides, school just let out for the summer.  You’ll have all summer to get out there and make some friends, I’m sure of it.”

The colt nodded but didn’t reply.  The two walked along in silence until they hit the main road, then turned as they went south towards the edge of town closest to the Everfree Forest.  Derpy always wondered why the farm had been built right at the edge of a dangerous forest, let alone the whole town, but the Apples who ran the place had done a decent job of it so far, so Derpy decided not to question it any further.

“You have a name?” Derpy asked the colt.

The colt nodded.  “It’s Braeburn.  Braeburn Apple.”

“Another Apple clan, huh?” Derpy said.  “I’m guessing Big Macintosh is your cousin, then.”

“Yeah.  I haven’t seen him much, but he’s probably gonna be there.”

“So, what exactly do your mom and dad do in Dodge Junction?”

“My mom was a cook,” Braeburn said excitedly.  “She used to make all kinds of good desserts with apples.  My favorites were the apple turnovers and the apple pies with a little cinnamon dusted over them,” Braeburn giggled and gave a little hop.  “She taught me how to make them when I first got my cutie mark.  My dad, Baldwin Apple, founded Dodge Junction when he was young and was a farmer.”

“Forgive me for asking, but what do you mean by ‘was’?  Isn’t he still?”

Braeburn’s face drooped and his paced slowed.  “My dad died of an illness a year ago.  Dodge Junction isn’t very big so we don’t get good medical treatment quickly out there.  So…”

Derpy recoiled a bit and waited for Braeburn to catch up before continuing.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“It’s okay,” Braeburn said.  “I’m mostly over it.”

It wasn’t long after Braeburn’s response that the two had reached the entrance of Sweet Apple Acres.  The early summer air was particularly sweet with the scent of freshly-budded apple blossoms from the hills of trees, a sort of lazy smell that made one want to lay in their shade and listen to the low buzzing of the bees.  Derpy pointed down the dirt road that trailed into the distance and down a small hill, beyond which Braeburn could see no more.

“If you keep going down that road,” the pegasus said, “you’ll eventually reach the Apple family homestead and barn.  Granny Smith’s getting old lately, so I would think she’d be inside the house at this hour.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Derpy,” Braeburn said.  “I’d better get going; Granny Smith will probably be writing a letter to mom sometime soon to let her know I’ve arrived safe.  Thank you again.”

Derpy waved at the colt then flew off to continue her route while Braeburn walked with the cart still rolling behind him down the dirt trail.  The colt trotted along at a slightly faster gait now, eager to be somewhere he could call home.  He took a large sniff of the sweet smell of the apple blossoms and remembered the days when his father would take him through the orchards while he applebucked and let Braeburn taste some of the initially sour then sweet apples that he was named for; he could almost still taste one on his tongue.

Once Braeburn came to the top of the small hill before the path turned downwards, he could see the Apple family home down below.  Two young fillies were running around in the open grassy area in front of the two-floor country house, with an older red stallion a few years older than Braeburn resting on the rustic wooden porch with a piece of straw in his mouth, while an older light green mare with a grey mane was sitting in a rocking chair, the old chair creaking as it shifted back and forth.  As Braeburn walked down the path, he could see the older stallion raise his head then look over to the older mare then back to Braeburn.  The fillies stopped their playing as the older mare got up from the rocking chair.

“Well, if it isn’t your cousin from Dodge Junction!” the older mare said as Braeburn approached.  “Now, don’t be shy, Applejack and Apple Bloom.  This here colt’s your cousin.  I wonder why he’s all alone, though.”

Braeburn approached the older mare, unhitching himself from the harness and running up to her as he threw his hooves gently around her in a hug.  “Granny Smith!” he said.  “I’m so glad to be here.  The train ride took forever.”

“Glad to see you around here safe, Braeburn.  And I see all your stuff is here, too.”  Granny Smith turned to the large red stallion.  “Big Macintosh, make sure the guest bedroom is good and ready for company.”

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh said, then turned and went obediently into the house.

The orange filly with a blonde mane came up to Braeburn, a trio of apples as her cutie mark.  A smaller yellow filly with a red mane and bright orange eyes walked cautiously up next to her.  “Howdy!” the older filly said with a distinct twang.  “My name’s Applejack.  Granny Smith had been talking about a cousin from Dodge Junction for a while, but I ain’t ever seen you before.  What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Braeburn,” Braeburn responded, a slight smile on his face.  “Braeburn Apple.”

Applejack looked impressively at the large red apple adorning Braeburn’s flank.  “You already got your cutie mark, too?  How did you get it?”

“I was helping mom cook in the kitchen.  I was applebucking for a few months before I got it and was helping mom cook desserts for a little before that.”

“Cutie mark!” said the younger filly, pointing at the red apple.  “Cutie mark!”

“Forgive Apple Bloom,” Applejack said.  “She’s just learning to talk.”

“It’s alright,” Braeburn said.

“Come on inside, y’all,” Granny Smith said.  “It’s about time for lunch anyways.  Braeburn, you can head up and find Macintosh in the guest bedroom where you can put your things.”

Braeburn nodded and went back to his cart, pulling out the ornate wooden box in his mouth and gently carrying it over to Granny Smith.  “This is for you,” he said.  “Mom said it would be safer with you.”

Granny Smith raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, but took the box from Braeburn anyway and brought it into the house.  Applejack helped Braeburn take one of the bags while Braeburn took two more, and little Apple Bloom started running circles around the two young ponies as they headed up the stairs; Granny Smith took the wooden box to a room on the bottom floor.

Big Macintosh was found in a small room that had a twin bed, a nice-sized closet, and a decent-sized set of drawers.  Braeburn and Applejack set down the bags on the bed for Braeburn to sort through later, and the four ponies went down to the kitchen for lunch.

It had been a while since he had eaten so well, Braeburn thought.  There were daffodil and daisy sandwiches, a small side salad, hay fries, and plenty of apple fritters, not to mention a large pitcher of apple juice.  He had been served on the train, but the portions were small and noting like the large meals his mother cooked, so seeing the food nearly made him drool.  Granny Smith was already in the kitchen when they had arrived, pulling out extra plates and glasses for Braeburn to use.

“Come on over and take a seat, Braeburn,” Granny Smith said as she placed down a small bowl of applesauce at one of the settings.  “Just remember that Macintosh and Apple Bloom have to sit next to each other so Mac can get her to feed.”

Apple Bloom was lifted into a high chair by Big Macintosh and the bowl of applesauce set down in front of her with a spoon.  Apple Bloom paid no attention to the food; instead, she was holding her tiny hooves out at Braeburn.  “Bwaeburn!” she said excitedly.  “Bwaeburn sit!”

Braeburn climbed up into the chair next to Apple Bloom, who giggled happily.  She turned to Granny Smith with a hoof pointed at the colt’s flank.  “Cutie mark!” she said.

“You already got your cutie mark?” Granny Smith said as she settled down into her place and served the sandwiches.

Big Macintosh leaned around Apple Bloom’s high chair and looked at Braeburn’s flank.  “Eeyup,” he responded.  “One large red and gold apple.”

“Well you’re already so much more grown up than the last time I saw you,” Granny Smith said with a smile.  “I remember when you were Apple Bloom’s size and age at the last Apple Family Reunion, always runnin’ around underhoof.  How did you get it?”

“I was helping mom cook apple dishes,” Braeburn responded as he started eating.  “And I had been helping out with dad applebucking the previous season.”  He would have elaborated more, but the food was so good it was all he could do not to shovel it all in his mouth at once.

“How late did you get it?” Big Macintosh asked, slowly feeding Apple Bloom bites of the applesauce.

“I was the first in my class,” Braeburn responded between bites.

Apple Bloom turned to Big Macintosh and blew a raspberry at him.

“You heard from Granny, didn’t you?” Big Macintosh said to the filly, who was giggling at him.

“Big Macintosh was the last in his class to get his cutie mark,” Applejack told Braeburn.  “And I was, too.”

“Oh, don’t get too depressed about it,” Granny Smith said.  “That just means he’s a go-getter, knows what he wants, and might be a good leader of sorts.  Those who get their cutie marks early tend to be that way sometimes.”

Lunch continued on for a while longer before Granny Smith spoke up again.

“Inside the wooden box was the deed belonging to your father for Dodge Junction,” the older mare said.  “Along with a note from your mother sayin’ you would be stayin’ here over the summer.  She’s hopin’ things will be sorted out before the time you have to go back to school.”

“That’s what she was sayin’ earlier, too,” Braeburn responded.

“Do you know why?”

Braeburn shook his head.  “No.”

Granny Smith’s face went from a smile to confusion; it was as though her face was trying to register happiness but kept retreating back to a straight face.  It was only when lunch was over did Braeburn finally feel her gaze leave him and was glad when she went into a back room and closed the door with the excuse of needing to take an afternoon nap.

It wasn’t until that night when Granny Smith emerged from the room after dinner with the wooden box.  She took the box and an oil lantern and went outside into the darkness.  The four younger ponies watched from the window as the light went over to the barn then disappeared and the night became dark again, the light of the moon from overhead barely illuminating the orchards beyond.

“Where’s grandma goin’?” Apple Bloom said as she crawled onto Big Macintosh’s head to see; even at two she already had an accent similar to her older sister’s.

“What do you suppose was in that box?” Applejack asked Braeburn.

“I don’t know,” Braeburn replied.  “Mom never let me look inside it.  She said it was something of dad’s that I would only be allowed to have when I was old enough.”

“How old are you now?”

“Fourteen.”

“And that isn’t old enough to let you have it?  You said you were applebuckin’ at seven.”

“Yeah, but that isn’t the same.”

“Depends on what was in the box,” Big Macintosh said calmly as he placed a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder.

“Mackie old enough,” Apple Bloom said, tapping a hoof on Big Mac’s forehead.

“Probably,” Macintosh replied in a long, slow drawl, “but if it’s supposed to be for Braeburn, I ain’t gonna make a fuss about it.”

Granny Smith didn’t come back for nearly an hour.  Big Macintosh had gone and put Apple Bloom in her bed after she fell asleep lying on his back, while Applejack and Braeburn had been on the floor reading over some of Applejack’s book series called ‘Daring Do’.  Applejack had just received the first and second ones as a gift and a third was due to come out that year, so the two young ponies poured over the pages while they waited for the older mare to return.

Big Macintosh had come down from the upstairs when Granny Smith returned.  The three awake ponies gathered around the older mare, noticing dirt stains on her hooves and sweat on her brow.  She turned out the lantern and set it on a small table next to the door then turned around to face the three young ponies.

“Did you put Apple Bloom to bed?” Granny Smith asked.

“Eeyup,” Macintosh replied.

Granny Smith nodded.  “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

“What was in the box, Granny Smith?” Braeburn spoke up.  “I never saw what was inside it.”

“It was a relic from your father,” Granny Smith replied.  “It came with a note from your mother saying to put it somewhere safe until you were old enough to understand how to use it wisely.”

“Ya ain’t gonna tell us what it was, exactly?” Applejack asked.

“All I’ll say is I’ve been here since the founding of Ponyville and we haven’t needed anything like that ever,” Granny Smith said.  She started waving a hoof.  “Now, Applejack and Braeburn, why don’t you two go on to bed?  It’s getting late.”

The two ponies started trotting up the stairs.  Braeburn turned to go into the guest bedroom when Applejack came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“We could see if Granny Smith will talk to Big Macintosh about it,” she said.

“Are you crazy?” Braeburn whispered back.  “What if she catches us?”

“Oh, please,” Applejack said.  “Big Macintosh has caught me a bunch of times listening in but hasn’t punished me for anything.”

Braeburn sighed and went over to the top of the stairs with Applejack, their faces hidden in the darkness of the upstairs corridor as they pressed their ears around the corner, listening to the sound of hoofsteps clip-clopping around the wood floors.  After a while, they stopped and Granny Smith released a sigh.

“Are you going to bed yet?” came Granny Smith’s voice.

There was a short pause.  “I want to know what was in the box, too,” Big Macintosh replied.

“You mean you wanted to know about it too?  Well, I suppose you’re old enough.  There were three things inside the box.  I went through and took two papers out and left the rest in there.  The first was your uncle Baldwin’s deed saying he owned the land of Dodge Junction, which Braeburn’s mother wanted me to keep safe.  The second was a letter saying that Braeburn would be staying with us at least a month and had a number where we could reach her.  I called the number this afternoon and apparently it’s a hospital in Canterlot.”

Applejack and Braeburn traded a look of worry amongst them before pressing their ears back to the upper stairs.

“The final thing was a gun: an old revolver by the makers Colt, Smith and Wesson.  It belonged to his father, who died of illness approximately one year ago, but he used to participate in competitions with the thing.”

There was a long silence.

“What did you do with the box?”

“I put it in a safe place, one which I’m sure neither you nor any of the young’uns will find it for as long as I live.”

“What of his mother?”

“She’s in the hospital with a bad case of the flu.  Never did have the best immune system, if I remember correctly.  She’s going through treatment and immunizations; the particular bout caught her off guard and she had little time to get Braeburn out before he got sick, as well.  She’s already been inducted into a hospital in Canterlot in critical condition.”

“Is there a chance she’ll recover?”

“Oh, entirely.  The doctors were saying one minute more and she wouldn’t have made it.  They’re focusing on stabilizing her for the time being, but as far as we know young Braeburn could be here with us for a long time.  We’ll need to treat him gently for the time being and not get him worked up over all this.  I have faith that she’ll recover.”

Braeburn sniffed quietly.  “Mom’s gotten sick again,” he whispered as he and Applejack retreated further into the hall.

“How bad was it last time?” Applejack asked.

“The first time she got a shot and was out in two days.  The second time they had to keep her for a week.  The last time they kept her for almost two weeks and have her on an IV for a few days because she was too weak to eat.”

Applejack hugged Braeburn.  “You can stay here as long as you need.”

Braeburn hugged her back but didn’t say anything.

The hug was broken by Apple Bloom’s voice coming from the next room.  “Mackie!” she called.  “Mackie!”  Apple Bloom’s calls were followed by a set of hoofsteps coming up the stairs, causing Applejack and Braeburn to each bolt for their rooms.  Braeburn settled himself down in the bed, leaving the door opened just a crack as he saw the light turn on in the hall and Macintosh walk by.

It wasn’t long before Macintosh walked by the open door again, this time with Apple Bloom wrapped in a blanket and lying in a sort of sling around his neck.  As he walked by, he stopped and looked through the crack at Braeburn, still awake and staring at him on the bed.  Macintosh gave a sort of sad smile as he looked at the younger colt.

“Welcome home, Braeburn,” he whispered, then closed the door.

Braeburn’s pillow was wet the following morning.

Over the next week, Braeburn became accustomed to living with the Apples of Ponyville.  Almost every day was the same, which helped to ease things along and helped the young colt to adjust to this new life.  Granny Smith always woke up the younger ponies with the sound of a small metal triangle, calling them all down to breakfast.  Breakfast itself was small; toast with apples and a glass of milk, sometimes an egg but not always.  Afterwards, Big Macintosh would go out and begin working on the orchards, lately going through and making sure that the trees were getting watered properly.  After the trees had been watered, the rest of the ponies came out to help weed, with Apple Bloom often getting distracted and running around looking at everything instead of helping.

After the weeding was finished and the sun was getting high in the sky, the entire group headed back to the farmhouse to rest in the front.  Braeburn started to join in Applejack’s and Apple Bloom’s little chase games, tag, and hide and seek in the orchard.  For her small size, Apple Bloom was surprisingly fast and an energetic little filly; despite his own speed, Braeburn never had to slow down, running at an even pace as Apple Bloom drew nearer to him then bolting forward when the filly almost got close enough to tap him.  Apple Bloom didn’t mind about the near-catches, instead she would often double-over giggling then resume the chase moments later.  Applejack wasn’t nearly as fast as Apple Bloom was and the little filly started teasing her much the same way Braeburn had, letting Applejack get close to her then dashing forward in a little yellow blur, often making a full run around the farmhouse before Applejack could realize where she’d gone.

Lunch was next, often sandwiches with some sort of apple side and either milk or apple juice for drink.  Afterwards it often was too hot outside to do much else, so the fans inside the house were turned on and Apple Bloom and Granny Smith both had their afternoon naps.  Macintosh either read the papers or went into his room to work on managing the family farm while Applejack and Braeburn were free to do as they pleased for the rest of the afternoon.  Often they would go around the orchards exploring new places or would go over to Applejack’s tree house in a small but shady elm tree with books and pencils and paper, the shade of the tree keeping the interior cool and sheltered from the sun.  Towards the end of the week, Macintosh took Braeburn and the two fillies to a nearby stream under the shade of a few large trees where they would play in the shallow waters; Apple Bloom always wanted to follow Braeburn out into the deeper parts that were above her head and either Macintosh or Applejack had to pull her back.

In the evening, Granny Smith would come out and start making dinner: some nights would have a large salad, other nights would be a large vegetable soup, and other nights still would have baked potatoes.  She would start making dinner early while the rest of the ponies were minding their own business and would call the others in just before the sun started to lower below the horizon.  The windows were opened and dinner was served before nightfall.  Afterwards, the ponies were left to their own devices until Apple Bloom went to bed.  The house would become quiet as the ponies one by one quieted down and eventually went to bed, with Big Macintosh staying up last and only until eleven at the latest.

It took a longer time for Braeburn to get used to the nights at the Apple’s house than it did to adjust to the days.  Macintosh offered to give Braeburn a small lamp he could turn on when he went to bed that hardly offered any light at all but enough of a glow to at least make it not pitch black, but Braeburn declined.  His problem wasn’t the dark but that nothing was familiar to him here.  He hoped his mother would be able to be released from the hospital soon.

At the end of a week Braeburn and the other Apples received good news from the hospital in Canterlot: Braeburn’s mother was on the mend and was in stable condition.  To celebrate, Granny Smith gave Braeburn ten bits for helping out with the orchards and Macintosh took the others to a summer festival taking place in the main part of Ponyville.

“We never had these sorts of festivals in Dodge Junction,” Braeburn said, looking around at the festive streamers, the large amount of stalls with games and food and artists selling their wares.  The smells of sweet treats and freshly-cooked soups mingled with the sounds of a band playing on a stage near the large brown and beige town hall and enticed him to look at almost every stall.

“Supposedly this year is the work of a pony a year younger than Applejack,” Big Macintosh said.  “She came from a rock farm on the other side of the hills and her special talent happens to be giving parties.”

“Party?” Apple Bloom asked, looking around from her spot on Big Mac’s head.  “Where?”

Applejack poked Apple Bloom gently.  “This is the party.  It’s the festival.”

The ponies eventually stopped at one place where there was corn on the cob, while Big Macintosh bought a small bowl of applesauce for Apple Bloom.  Braeburn couldn’t help but tap his hooves to the music as they ate, then they continued onwards.  Eventually, Big Macintosh stopped at a stall selling new farm equipment; Apple Bloom crawled over to Applejack’s head and Braeburn went with them to the next stall over selling special clothing.

The ponies were about to leave when Apple Bloom started whining and holding her hooves out at something.  It took a minute for the other two to realize that the filly was staring at a small pink bow that must have been at least as large as her head made of a soft pink material.

“Apple Bloom!” Applejack said sternly.  “You know you’ll get that thing dirty by tomorrow with how much you’re runnin’ around.”

“I want it…” Apple Bloom whined.  “It’s pretty.”

“Apple Bloom, I already told you no.”

Apple Bloom pouted and laid her head down on Applejack’s, sniffing.  Braeburn felt bad for her and pulled out his own bits, looking at the price on the bow and counting out eight bits to cover the cost.  He handed it over to the shopkeeper and bought the bow, coming back out of the stall to disapproving looks from Applejack and a rather bright-looking Applebloom.

“Oh, Braeburn,” Applejack said.  “It will get dirty by tomorrow.  You didn’t have to.”

“You gotta let her have something every once in a while,” Braeburn said, then gently set about tying the bow to Apple Bloom’s hair.  When he was done, the bow was neatly in place and left a little red ponytail with the rest of her mane.  Apple Bloom giggled happily and crawled over to Braeburn’s head and under his large Stetson, giving him a large hug around his neck before resting her head on his and clinging to his neck with her front legs, her face peeping out from under the wide brim.

“You know what?” Applejack said, her own face brightening a little.  “It does look pretty.”

“Not dirty,” Apple Bloom said proudly.

“Are you saying it won’t get dirty or that it’s not dirty yet?”

“Won’t,” the filly said firmly.

With Apple Bloom still on Braeburn’s head, the three went back over to Big Macintosh, who was finishing the purchase of a new plow.  He smiled both at Braeburn and at Apple Bloom when he saw the bow on the little filly’s head.  Soon afterwards they walked back to the farmhouse, with Braeburn considering it the perfect end to the week; things were looking up for the young colt.

With the next few weeks, Braeburn soon wished he could have the times of the festival and the first week back.  The next two months became a roller-coaster ride as far as his mother’s health; one week the doctors would say she was on the mend, the next they would say the illness had flared up again and she was relapsing but fighting.  The normalcy of the schedule was comforting in it always being the same, and Applejack and the rest were always there to help comfort Braeburn whenever he became worried about his mother.

Eventually, one day Granny Smith called the family together for a discussion after dinner.  The old mare sat in her rocking chair and had the other four sit in front of her in a half-circle.  The older mare sighed and didn’t speak for a long time, the four younger ponies staring at her expectantly.

“Braeburn,” she said slowly, “the doctors called me today with information on your mother.  I’m very sorry, but they say the illness had flared up to the point where they were simply prolonging the inevitable.  They called to say that she passed away this afternoon in her sleep and that a small sum of money that belonged to her will be given to you as compensation for the loss, as well as one more relic of your father’s that she said she didn’t want me to hide from you.”

Apple Bloom was the first to speak.  “What happened…?”

Granny Smith quickly turned to Big Macintosh.  “Take her up to bed.”

Macintosh nodded and let Apple Bloom crawl onto his head without fuss.  He quickly took Apple Bloom up and had gotten her up the stairs just as the first tears fell from Braeburn’s eyes.

“Mom…” he said.  His legs suddenly felt weak and he lowered himself to lying on the floor as he tried to hold back the tears.  “You said it would only be a few months… W-why can’t I go back home…”

“Aw, sweetie…” Granny Smith said. She got off the rocking chair and placing a hoof under Braeburn’s chin so that he looked at her.  “We’re still your family, and we’ll be here for you.  So long as you decide to stay with us, this is your home.”

But Braeburn wasn’t so easily consoled.  It wasn’t until late in the night after a long crying session from the young colt surrounded by Granny Smith, Applejack, and Big Macintosh all hugging him and trying to comfort him did he finally fall asleep and Big Macintosh carried him up to the room.  For two whole weeks, Braeburn didn’t leave the farmhouse and the Apples let him stay there, not expecting him to help out on the orchard but to grieve for his loss.

A few weeks later, school started and Braeburn was sent to school with Applejack.  At first he faltered and didn’t do very well, but eventually he found that the work kept his mind off the pain of losing his mother, not to mention Big Macintosh was an excellent tutor, and the young colt excelled.  When applebuck season came around, Braeburn worked with gusto, managing to balance his time between school work and applebucking.

Weeks turned into months turned into years.  For seven years, Braeburn worked on the Apple family farm and went to school, eventually going through a local community college with a degree in math and science.  For seven years Braeburn helped the ponies care for the orchard, from weeding to applebucking to planting to watering.  During the summer months when there was little work to do, Braeburn went into the town of Ponyville, where he charmed the residents with his polite manners and his country accent.  For a long time, it seemed as though he had gotten over the pain of his mother’s and father’s death, and nopony in Ponyville even knew the tragedy that had occurred around the young, handsome stallion in their midst.

But the memories of his mother and father were there.  One day after six years of hiding it away he confessed his feelings to Applejack as they sat under the shade of one of the apple trees.

“I’ve thought about striking out on my own for a while now,” he told Applejack.  “Maybe following the train tracks and heading up northwest and starting my own orchard.”

Applejack turned to where Braeburn was leaning on the tree, hooves behind his head.  “Wherever did that idea come from?  You’ve been so quiet these past few years I’d almost thought you had settled down.”

“I’ve been taking care of the farm long enough I could start one up from scratch with a few helping hooves.  I keep thinking about my mom and dad and how I shouldn’t be brooding over their deaths.  I should try and make them proud.”

“With how you’ve been working hard here at Sweet Apple Acres lately, I’d say you’re doing pretty well and would make them proud.”

“Yeah, but my dad started a town.  A whole town.  I want to be part of something like that.  I want to be involved in something big, like starting my own ranch out somewhere and watching it grow.  Come to think of it, Granny Smith and the rest of her clan did that with Ponyville, didn’t they?”

“Well, I suppose they did, but that’s no reason to come to that idea.”

“All the same… they’ve been looking for available ponies to go and start a new settlement close to Dodge Junction. It’ll be along the rail line next to a small river.  They need a few extra ponies to get things started.  I’m considering signing up for work as an apple rancher.”

“Braeburn, have you talked this over with Granny Smith and Big Macintosh?”

“They agreed to give me a few things of apples and seeds to help me get things started.  They’ll be ready before the next Summer Sun Celebration, in springtime.  That will give me enough time to get there, claim my land, and start up a farm before applebucking season starts in the fall.  It’ll be the chance I need to get out there and prove myself.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“I’ll have tried and said I did.  Maybe even with that, I’ll be happy.”

“Oh, Braeburn…”

“Applejack, trust me, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not that.  I completely respect your decision.  I promise I’ll bring around a sapling or two when the town gets started to help add to the orchard.”

Braeburn looked over to Applejack, smiling at him, and managed to give a smile of his own back.  “Thank you, Applejack.”

A few months later, Braeburn was on the train for the new settlement with everything he owned.  Along with his belongings he carried five large packs of apple seeds, three large cases of apples, and a few sets of hardware.  As the train started off he waved goodbye to Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, Applejack, and Apple Bloom on the platform.  He waved until they were long out of sight, and kept watching the window until Ponyville had completely vanished.

Next Chapter: Chapter 5 - Family Heirlooms Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 60 Minutes