It has been a long summer, which gradually made its way into autumn, and finally to winter. Still, the desert heat changes little when it comes to intensity.

Our most recent discovery confirmed this fact. We found the D.J.T. crew, but not in the condition we wanted to.

200 sets of bleach-white bones, all picked clean, lay scattered about on a circular fashion around the baked, defunct remains of the Dodge Trunkline's locomotive. I couldn't even make out its names, as the paint had been chipped away.

We had all expected this. None of us wanted to admit it, but we all knew that the D.J.T. didn't just give up and head home in the middle of work. The weirdest thing that we noticed was that not all of the former workers looked to have died of exposure. A few had really bad cracks on dome bones, a few even had their skulls broken.

Before anypony could react, the new guy in charge, a nice trustworthy fellow by the name of Creosote, shouted for everyone to shelter themselves behind the trains. As it had turned out, our timing couldn't have been any worse. A sandstorm, and a pretty big one at that, was approaching fast.

We had to crowd together behind the two train, and that barely did enough to keep us safe from the biting sand. We all closed our eyes, and we didn't open them again until we were ordered to do so by a voice that didn't belong to a member of the crew.

The sandstorm wasn't actually a sandstorm, but the dust trail of a bison war party! A lot of us couldn't decide if that revelation was a good thing, but when arrows didn't start raining down on us, we took our chances.

We were incredibly lucky, as the war party had a translator with them. His name was "Little Thunderhooves," and it was through him that the crew got the whole story.

To call the D.J.T. crew unfriendly towards bison would've been a major understatement. The buffalo wanted to help at first, maybe even trade a little, but when their initial attempts at contact were met with hostilities, they backed off. Sheesh, I didn't think ponies were this racist. I must have traveled to the better spots of the world.

Sometime later, an actual sandstorm hit the crew. The bison are more than well adapted to handle the waves of tiny rocks, but that isn't even half true for ponies and their kin.

Apparently, the D.J.T. crew dissolved into anarchy when the storm hit them. They thought they were under attack and attacked each other as a result. That explains the broken bones, and the rest succumbed to the burning sand before it was halfway over. That's a horrendous way to go, but the truth isn't always pretty.

I could tell just by looking that some of the crew didn't entirely believe Little Thunderhooves' story, but who were we to disagree? Even though we outnumbered the war party 5 to 1, we were still outmatched.

So, we acted the opposite of the D.J.T.'s crew. We made it clear that we were open to discussion. The bison were actually a bit shocked at our behavior, but they promised not to commit hostile action so long as we didn't either.

We explained our position, our goal, and our own views on non-pony species. Not all of Equestria's people are bad. We also made it clear that the Trans-Equestrian Railway would have next to zero impact on the bison's sacred stampeding grounds. I had always known the bison were deeply spiritual, but since when did the behemoths have sacred areas where they run?

The desert inhabitants thought long and hard about our claims, and their reaction was unexpected. They actually directed us through an area where we wouldn't impede them at all. Even better, this new route required much less supplies! We even managed to scavenge some materials from the remains of the previous crew!

The bison did more, and I still can't thank them enough. They actually escorted us the entire way to Dodge! None of the crew realized just how many different types of predators inhabited the desert flatlands, and it’s thanks to the buffalo that I'm writing from a safe inn located near the center of Dodge Junction. I didn't even know what a Cactus Coyote was until a few days ago, nor did I know they could open their jaws that wide.

There was a big celebration waiting for us when we laid the final tracks into Dodge. With a little persuasion, the citizens of Dodge let the bison take part as well. There were apple pies, square dances, salt licks, and more than a few pretty southern belles looking my way. I've never seen Rook dance before last night, and he's lighter on his hooves than I could've ever imagined. It was obvious that Jack and Swan would dance together, and they were surprisingly good for beginners.

I've promised to keep in touch with Little Thunderhooves. He'd make for an excellent chief one day.