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They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?

by Donnys Boy

Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

For a second, nopony moved and nopony spoke. It almost seemed as though nopony dared breathe. Then Applejack took a small step to her left, carefully positioning herself between the three masked ponies and Pinkie Pie and her sister. All of a sudden the train car, which had felt warm and cozy when they’d left Ponyville, became tight and cramped and cold as death.

“Listen, mister,” Applejack began in a quiet, calm tone, “we don’t want no trouble.”

The orange-maned unicorn laughed again. “Glad to hear it, little missy. Neither do we. Just hand over yer bits, and we’ll get outta yer manes.”

Applejack’s eyes flicked over to Pinkie. Pinkie was standing now, too, and nudging a groggy but conscious Apple Bloom up onto her back. Applejack raised an eyebrow, just a fraction of an inch, and in reply Pinkie Pie gave a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. Taking a deep breath, Applejack turned her attention back toward the robbers. The muscles in her hindlegs tensed up, eager and ready, and the fur along her nape bristled.

The lead stallion took another step forward, his eyebrows furrowed beneath his Stetson. “Hey, now. If you’re even thinkin’ of trying anything funny …”

Out of the corner of her eye Applejack saw a flash of pink, as Pinkie suddenly bolted for the door behind them, and Applejack took that as her cue and launched herself forward. The unicorn let out a yelp and slashed with his knife, catching the farm mare across the shoulder, but Applejack’s weight and momentum smashed into the stallion like a wrecking ball. The orange magical glow disappeared as he collapsed with a groan, and his knife went skittering across the rough wood floors of the car.

One down, two to go.

The masked mare dashed by, a blur of turquoise as she spread her wings and took to the air. Applejack struggled to get back up on her hooves, wincing the moment she put weight on the shoulder that’d been sliced open. Just as she was about to attempt a flying tackle, a pair of burly yellow forelegs grabbed her from behind. The third robber. Applejack sucked in her breath as the other stallion’s hoof dug deep into her bleeding shoulder, and she almost lost her footing from the sudden flood of pain.

With a low growl, Applejack ducked her head and bit down into the pony’s foreleg as hard as she could. He howled and he cursed, but he didn’t let go. His grip loosened, though, just a bit, just enough--enough for her to squirm out of his hold. Whipping around, leaning forward with a pained grunt, Applejack lifted her hindlegs.

“What in the--”

A sharp, swift kick sent the stallion flying through the air. He smacked into the far wall of the train car with a satisfying crack before his body slumped to the floor like a sack of dropped flour. By now, the first stallion was shakily standing back up. Applejack frowned and, coiling the muscles in her rear legs, sent the stallion sprawling to the floor once again. From the benches she fetched her saddlebags and took out a length of strong, solid rope. Working quickly, she tied up both the stallions, good and tight, before they could even think of getting a second wind.

Two down, one to go.

Gritting her teeth, Applejack went limping off toward the other end of the car, where the door hung wide open. Every step sent burning pain shooting down her entire leg, but Applejack didn’t have time for pain. Not now. Once outside, she reached with her good foreleg to open the door to the next car then frowned. She tried again and frowned even harder. The door to the next train car was locked.

“Now I’ve gotcha, ya little rattlesnake!”

That was the pegasus. Had to be. The voice sounded as though it had come from above and, glancing up, Applejack spotted a ladder on the side of the train car. She jumped onto the ladder and began awkwardly hoisting herself up, pulling with her good foreleg and pushing with her rear legs. On top of the car, where the wind whipped through her mane as the train hurtled down the tracks, she spotted the last of the robbers.

The pegasus was just a few yards away, her wings flared wide as she skulked forward. Just one car past the mare stood Apple Bloom, hunkering down, her belly almost flush against the top of the train’s caboose. Pinkie was nowhere to be seen, and Applejack swore under her breath.

The farmer broke into a run, stumbling a bit as the pain in her shoulder sent tremors all up and down her leg, but the pegasus proved too far away. A sickly sour pit formed deep down in Applejack’s stomach as she realized she’d never reach Apple Bloom before the robber did.

But then, just as the pegasus reached the edge of the train car connected to the caboose, Apple Bloom grinned. It was a grin that Applejack had seen plenty of times over the years, a sneaky little grin that always heralded some bit of Cutie Mark Crusaders mischief.

“Surprise!”

Confetti exploded out of nowhere, a blizzard of disorienting colors against the inky black of the surrounding night, and the pegasus mare reared back with a startled whinny. Pinkie popped up from between the two train cars, wearing a grin every inch as sneaky as the one Apple Bloom wore. She stepped onto the edge of the train car with her legs splayed out and her head held low, as if she were a bull getting ready to charge. There was a fire in those blue eyes that belied the grin on her lips, and the pegasus took a step back.

That hesitation and confusion was all the chance Applejack needed. She crossed the remaining distance in just a few long strides, and she head-butted the back of the pegasus as hard as she could. With a screech, the pegasus tumbled head over hooves--and, knocked off balance, she went rolling right off the top of the train.

A moment later, Applejack saw the pegasus airborne behind them, flying after the train with her forelegs straining forward. But a single pegasus was no match for a train fueled by coal and steam. Applejack watched with a flicker of spiteful glee as the pegasus grew smaller and smaller, just a tiny turquoise dot silhouetted against the moon, until finally the pegasus was swallowed up completely into the darkness.

“Sis ... you’re hurt!”

Applejack glanced down. Apple Bloom was staring up at her with an intense frown on her little face and a look in her eyes almost like anger.

The older mare chuckled and shook her head. “It’s just a little scratch, ‘Bloom. We’ll get it all bandaged up, and I’ll be good as new in two shakes of a Timberwolf’s tail.”

And she would. That was no lie. It’d take a lot more than a few no-good train robbers to do in an Apple. Still, now that the fight was won and the adrenaline was beginning to drain from her system, she had to admit she was feeling a bit weaker than before. A little bit less sure on her feet.

And now that she was thinking about it, the world had started looking kind of off-kilter. Sort of like everything was at an angle. She didn’t think that was quite right. Wasn’t quite how things ought to be.

“Applejack?”

The last thing Applejack saw before she passed out cold was pink, an almost painfully bright pink that cut through the night like a cotton candy beacon.


Her mouth tasted like something had crawled inside and died.

Applejack grimaced and smacked her lips, but she couldn’t get that taste out of her mouth. Had she been out drinking the hard stuff with Big Mac again? She couldn’t remember. With a shaky groan, she pried open her eyes and blinked against the sudden, blinding brightness all around her.

“Applejack! Golly, cuz, it’s sure good to see you awake!”

Applejack squinted. Braeburn? Why on earth was Braeburn in her bedroom? Still blinking, she turned her head to take a look around--and immediately winced as pain shot through her shoulder and straight down her leg.

“Whoa there, now.” Braeburn gently took her head between his hooves and held it in place. “Best not go makin’ any sudden movements. You’re pretty banged up.”

The light wasn’t as blinding now. As her eyes adjusted, Applejack saw that she wasn’t in her bedroom. The walls were plain, unpainted wood, just like at Sweet Apple Acres, but other than that, it looked nothing like home. Daylight streamed in mercilessly through a window on the side. Across from the bed where she laid stood a table, full of tongue depressors and rolls of gauze and other medical supplies. The air hung stale and stagnant in the room, and it carried an almost overpowering stench of death and antiseptic.

Applejack grimaced as she realized where she was and, just like that, it all came back to her. The robbers, the train, the trip to see Bloomberg.

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered in a voice thick with sleep. “Can’t believe I went and fainted from a little tiny bit of blood. Celestia help me, if Rainbow Dash ever finds out, I won’t never hear the end of it.”

Braeburn chuckled a bit as he leaned back. “Well, the way ‘Bloom and Miss Pinkie tell it, it was more than just a little tiny bit you lost.”

Applejack frowned. “Where’d those two troublemakers get off to, anyhow?”

With a grin, Braeburn turned and nodded to a corner of the room. Slowly, carefully, Applejack lifted her head to see just where her cousin was gesturing. Across the room stood a wooden chair, and in that wooden chair laid a pink earth pony, curled up in a ball just like Winona in her bed, with a little yellow filly sprawled out atop her. It was peaceful yet odd, seeing both of those energetic ponies so calm and motionless for a change.

“They stayed up all night watching ya,” Braeburn explained, “waiting for ya to wake up. Reckon it finally tuckered ‘em out.”

Applejack smiled as she watched the two ponies sleep. “Didn’t mean to give y’all a scare. Sorry about that.”

“Just glad you’re gonna be all right.” Braeburn sighed, drawing Applejack’s attention away from the slumbering pair. “To tell the truth, I reckon I’m the one owing apologies here. I’m … I’m awful sorry about what happened on the train.”

“Aw, heck. Ain’t nothing for you to be sorry for, Brae.”

Braeburn took off his hat and twisted it nervously between his forehooves. “This ain’t exactly the first time there’s been trouble with ponies robbin’ the trains.”

Applejack stayed quiet. She lay there, with her head aching and her shoulder throbbing, and she rolled that bit of information around in her head. Then she looked Braeburn straight in the eyes and nodded for him to continue.

“Applejack, I don’t know how to tell you this, but … but there’s been a drought. Worst drought I’ve ever seen in all my years.” He looked away and swallowed hard enough that Applejack could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Trees’ve been dying. Ponies’ve been worried. A whole bunch of no-good varmints like the ones on that train have been swarming all ‘round Appleloosa, just like a gaggle of vultures.”

“That’s …” Applejack wasn’t sure just what to say. She worked her jaw for a moment or two, trying to think of something adequate. “That’s awful, Braeburn, and I’m real sorry to hear it. I don’t see how it’s your fault, though.”

Braeburn’s cheeks went pink. “I’m the mayor now, cuz. We held us some elections a while back, and the townsfolk voted me in.”

“Mayor Braeburn? Really? Well, I’ll be a griffon’s auntie!”

“Took Sheriff Silverstar a bit of gettin’ used to, I think, but eventually he came ‘round.” With a sigh, he put his hat back atop his head. “So it’s my fault, y’see. Mayor’s in charge of a town, in charge of what happens. In charge of what goes wrong, too.”

Slowly Applejack nodded. She wasn’t mayor of anything, not even Sweet Apple Acres, but she understood. The Apple clan didn’t let down its friends or its family, and for Braeburn, Appleloosa was both.

“Don’t mean to dump all my problems on ya,” Braeburn said, suddenly all smiles again. He patted her on the foreleg and stood up. “I’ll let you get a bit more rest. Old Doc Sawbones oughta be back soon to check on ya.”

Applejack watched, with thoughtful eyes, as her cousin walked to the door. Her brain still felt a bit sluggish, but the cogs were definitely turning. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, deliberating, and then took a breath.

“Braeburn.”

The stallion paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes, cuz?”

“I wanna take a look at them orchards o’ yours.”


Under the oppressive heat of the desert sun, still bright and punishing even as it slowly sank below the horizon, Applejack walked down the long rows of apple trees in the Appleloosan orchard with Braeburn to her right and Pinkie to her left. Meanwhile, Apple Bloom trotted along directly in front of her, glancing over her shoulder at the older pony every few seconds. The entire trek out to the orchards, Apple Bloom hadn’t let Applejack get more than two steps away. It was a bit annoying, but Applejack couldn’t really fault her sister for the overprotectiveness. She knew she’d given the little filly a pretty awful scare.

To the other side of Braeburn walked Little Strongheart. The young buffalo gazed out over the rows and rows of dying trees with eyes every inch as sad as Braeburn’s own.

It proved slow going, as Applejack couldn’t manage much more than a leisurely stroll, limping along with her entire left shoulder bandaged up good and tight. Without comment, the others adjusted their pace to match hers, and Applejack felt embarrassment war with gratitude within her chest. She did her best to ignore it, focusing instead on the trees. Apples, brown and rotten, littered the ground. The leaves on the trees looked yellow, like old parchment paper, and they hung loose on the branches as though the slightest breeze would blow them away.

“Y’all can see the problem,” began Braeburn, kicking at the ground and producing a large cloud of dust. “Soil’s dry as a bone. Ain’t been a drop of rain in weeks.”

Suddenly Pinkie threw a foreleg in the air, like a school filly answering the teacher. “Hey, I’ve got an idea!”

Braeburn’s ears went flat against his head. “It … it ain’t another song, is it, Miss Pinkie?”

Little Strongheart giggled.

“Nope! It’s even better than a song!” Pinkie grinned. “Pegasus ponies!”

“Pegasus ponies?”

“Pegasus ponies,” Pinkie confirmed, her head bobbing up and down in an enthusiastic nod. “You need rain, right? Well, pegasuses make the clouds that make the rain!”

Braeburn bit his lip. “We already tried. Brought in a special team all the way from Los Pegasus, even.” He slowly shook his head. Applejack had never seen him look so tired. “Turns out clouds can’t make it that far. They break up and disappear before they’re even halfway over the mountains.”

Pinkie’s grin vanished. “Oh.”

Applejack stopped walking. Leaning over, she gave a friendly nudge to Pinkie’s shoulder with her snout. “Tweren’t a bad idea, sugarcube. Was good of you to offer it up.” Thoughtfully she frowned, gazing out at the surrounding plains and distant foothills with an appraising eye. “Say, you got any water reserves anywhere? Lakes, streams, rivers, anything like that?”

At that, Little Strongheart immediately glanced over at Braeburn. The stallion, in turn, just stared down at his hooves as he continued kicking at the dirt.

“Braeburn,” said Applejack, trying and failing to keep irritation from leaking into her voice, “you ain’t been able to hide nothing from me ever since we was tiny sprouts. So c’mon, now. Just spit it out.”

Braeburn snorted softly. “It’s too darn dangerous!”

Little Strongheart lifted her chin. When she spoke, her words were calm, but there was steel in her voice. “Sheriff Silverstar does not believe so.”

“Maybe not, but you can’t tell me that Chief Thunderhooves thinks it’s all fine and dandy.”

Turning around, her brow furrowed, Apple Bloom asked, “What’s too dangerous?”

Braeburn sighed, long and deep, and it seemed as though his entire body sagged a bit as the breath left his lungs. “The town and the local tribe have been talkin’ about finding a way to bring water down from the Macintosh Hills over yonder.” He nodded toward the foothills visible on the horizon. “A while back, we sent up a few ponies and buffalo to go scoutin’ for water. They ran into trouble. Bandits are all up and down them hills, just like along the train tracks. Never know when you’ll run into ‘em.”

Little Strongheart lowered her head, and her eyes fluttered shut. Braeburn leaned against her, strong and sturdy as the healthiest apple tree in Equestria, and the stallion offered her a gentle nuzzle.

“Running Wind and Sagebrush,” added the buffalo, so quietly Applejack almost couldn’t hear. “That evening, they … they almost did not return to us.”

By then, the little group had reached the edge of the orchard. Fewer trees lived out here, trees that had been planted more recently. On a little mound, some small distance from the main rows, stood a solitary apple tree. Its trunk reached up towards the sky, broad and straight as a royal guard, but the tree held not a single apple in its branches. A good half or more of its leaves were gone, and the remaining half looked as dry and brown as the desert sands all around them.

No one spoke.

Applejack continued forward, wincing as every step sent a fresh jolt of pain through her shoulder, and she laid a tender hoof upon the trunk of the poor tree. Maybe it was just her sun-poisoned brain playing tricks on her, but she could swear she could feel the tree’s life pulse beneath her hoof, feeble and frail. Seeing this tree--her tree--in such a pitiful state, a withered ghost of what it once had been, hurt far worse than any knife ever could.

“Sis? Sis, are you okay?”

Slowly turning back around, Applejack was confronted with the sad eyes and concerned faces of her friends and family. Apple Bloom looked like she was set to burst into tears at any moment, while Pinkie’s ears had drooped down low.

She didn’t like seeing her loved ones looking like that. All beaten-down and worn out, like nothing had ever gone right and nothing ever would go right. She hated knowing that she was responsible, even just partly, for putting those hangdog expressions on all their faces, too. She hated that every bit as much as she hated seeing Bloomberg so sick and frail and fading away like the light of a setting sun.

So Applejack set her jaw, and Applejack replied, her voice loud and sure, “I’m fine, Apple Bloom. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 Estimated time remaining: 51 Minutes
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