The Outlaw, The Star and the Big, Big Sky

by TotalOverflow

Unfinished Chapters

From the author:
Howdy all, to anyone who still visits this site and read any of this story. First, I want to say I appreciate it greatly. Although its been... 12 years, I never stopped thinking about this story or my previous one, Macintosh, and never stopped valuing all of you who read and enjoyed them.
Many many years on, I grew nostalgic, and felt the urge to revisit this story a little. I had a fair amount of unfinished, unpublished material which never got posted, and I figured why not, I'll share it with you. I should have done this years ago, but it is what it is. To anyone who still visits this site and might find this story, thank you.
Please note that the following content is unpolished and unfinished. It was likely going to need large refinements and fixes before it was really ready for any reader, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Again, thank you so much. It means more to me than you could know that you took the time to read and comment. If anyone reads this, I would love to hear about it and what you thought.
-TotalOverflow, 2024

The Outlaw, the Star and the Big, Big Sky

By TotalOverflow, 2012

Chapter 7

It wasn't until the latest hours of night, when even the crickets and the creatures of the sand had retired to their hovels and dens that Braeburn finally dropped his quill on the table and leaned back in his chair. Hours long he labored over his checklist, detailing with fierce precision the exact details of Starlight's first visit to Appleloosa. In order for her true identity to remain secret and her safety to be ensured, a new life story had to be created for her. Many revisions were made, and now as he looked over his list through bleary eyes, he hoped to Celestia his work would be enough to protect Starlight from whoever sought her harm.

He stood and his joints creaked beneath him. The world outside his window, still and silent, beckoned him to sleep. With a yawn he blew out the lamp on his desk and drifted to the couch, falling upon it face first. Exhaustion forbade him from pulling the covers over his tired form and within moments he fell asleep; it was a restless and dreamless sleep.

"Burn!"

He clenched his eyes and grit his teeth, burying his face into the cushions in defiance.

"Burn, wake up!"

The insides of his eyelids flushed orange and he winced from the sudden sunlight, curling into a little ball and hiding his eyes.

"BuuUUUuurrrn!"

Something cold poked his back and he jerked awake, turning to face his assaulter with unfocused eyes.

"It's day! It's Appleloosa day!"

Starlight danced on the tips of her hooves, her scarlet eyes aflame with excitement, her dark mane swirling around her and glittering in the morning light.

He couldn't help but smile. "Mornin', Star...*yawn*...light."

"MORNING! IT'S MORNING!!"

After his ears stopped ringing he sat up and pushed his ruffled mane out of his eyes.

"Yup, sure is," he said, still grinning. There was something important he needed to do, but his mind still struggled to function. Looking around the room it returned to him when he saw the papers on his table, and his smile fell.

"Right. Starlight, I need ta talk with you a minute."

The two moved over to the table and Braeburn spread out his lists. Starlight hopped with unbridled joy beside him.

"When can we go?" she asked, "when can we go to Appleloosa?"

"Soon, Starlight," he answered, wanting but being unable to smile. "Soon."

He faced her, and his serious expression tore the gleeful grin from Starlight's face.

"B'fore we go into town you'll need ta memorize a few things. You're bright, it'll be no trouble for you."

"'Kay," she nodded her head, frowning in confusion.

He stared into her eyes for a moment before turning back to his list. "If anypony asks, you're an old friend o’ mine from Manehattan. You had ta leave town suddenly 'cause of some family issues, an' you're stayin' with me fer a while. You've never been out west, so if anypony-"

"Burn," she interrupted, "I don't...um...why do I need to lie?"

“It ain’t...” he began, then sighed. “Look. Fact is, I ain’t sure you’re out of danger yet. Until I’m sure you’re safe, we’ll need ta be extra careful not ta arouse anypony’s suspicion, so no talk of the meteorite or your memory loss or anythin’ like that, ‘kay?”

“...‘Kay.”

She looked away and Braeburn bit his lip. He opened his mouth to speak but instead took a long breath and turned, walking for the window. Outside, trotting up the dusty path was Linky and her black satchels. Looking down at his one bandaged hoof, Braeburn clicked his tongue and faced Starlight.

“Linky’ll be here any moment,” he said. Starlight frowned.

“Linky,” she said, almost disdainfully.

Braburn took a step closer. “I need you ta stay in my...your room till she leaves, ‘kay? But I promise this is the last time.”

Starlight glanced between his eyes before smiling sweetly and walking for the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Smiling slightly, Braeburn made his way for the couch and sat down. After today, Starlight wasn’t going to be a secret any more.

What would that mean?

There was a knock on the door and Braeburn opened it to welcome Linky.

“Mornin’,” he said, smiling widely. Linky merely nodded her head and let herself in. He hadn’t seen her since their conversation yesterday, Braeburn realized suddenly; a conversation that ended bitterly. His smile faded and he sat down, holding out his hoof in silence.

She worked quickly, removing the bandage and wiping his hoof clean, then packed her supplies away without a word.

“Uh,” Braeburn started. Linky looked at him with emotionless eyes. “Ain’t you gonna put a new bandage on?”

“Don’t need it,” she said flatly, “yer hoof’s just ‘bout healed up. Jes’ be careful on it an’ it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, okay.” He looked at his hoof, still a little reddish and scarred. The door clicked as Linky opened it to leave.

“Um,” he said awkwardly, standing, “are...is everythin’ okay?”

When she turned her gaze upon him something flashed across her eyes and she quickly looked away. “Yeah. Everythin’s okay.” She opened her mouth to say something more but decided against it, instead nodding her head with a flick of her light blue mane. “Be gentle with that hoof o’ yers. If it starts hurtin’, come see me or Doc.”

With that, she left, the door swinging shut behind her.

Braeburn licked his dry lips and spun his now naked hoof in the air. No more bandages. He was getting used to them. He didn’t know why, but he almost wished he could have them back.

“Well...” said the yellow stallion to the empty room, “things change.” Looking back to the bedroom door he prepared himself for what may be the biggest change of all.

“All right, Starlight, c’mon out.”

Braeburn took a step back and looked at Starlight. His old duster coat was too large for her so they had to roll the cuffs up, but she only needed to wear it until they got to Mrs. Seam's shop. He took a step to either side, reassuring himself that her blank flank was hidden entirely.

"Now, you 'member everythin' I told you?" asked Braeburn.

Starlight groaned and rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Okay. Good, okay. You know, you can just leave the book here."

"No."

Braeburn chuckled. She clutched the red book beneath her arm with an almost motherlike care.

"Well, all right then," he said.

"Can we go to Appleloosa now?"

Taking a deep breath, Braeburn placed his stetson on his head. "Yeah, guess so."

Starlight squealed and Braeburn opened the front door for her. She jumped outside and Braeburn followed, closing the door behind him. When he turned around he found Starlight standing motionless, hardly two yards away from the door. She stared out over the apple orchard. From here, the wreckage was just barely visible.

"Burn," she said quietly. Braeburn, glancing nervously over his shoulder, came and stood next to the filly. "What...was it?" she asked.

"Hm?" He finally turned his attention to Starlight. "What was what?"

"The..." She grunted in frustration. "Word! Can't think of..." She pawed the ground for a moment and looked back to Braeburn with a wide smile. "Never mind it," she said, "let's go to AAAAAAPPLELOOOSA!"

With a bray she stampeded down the hill toward town.

"Hey!" shouted Braeburn as he ran after her, "w-wait! You can't just go runnin'-!"

"Can't...um," she yelled over her shoulder, "uh...Race! Beat you there!"

“Starlight,” he tried to say angrily, but only managed to chuckle. The filly skipped along the path, joyously embracing the wide open world around her. Braeburn’s smile stretched even further across his face as he watched her spin a circle and admire a desert flower, before licking it and jerking away, repulsed.

“This is, uh, uh,” she shouted, searching for the word she wanted, “good! Very, very good!” With a whinny she galloped along the path.

“This way, Starlight,” Braeburn called after her, directing her back onto the road to town. Pushing past the grinning stallion she ran around the tall butte of rock hiding the town and stopped dead in her tracks. When Braeburn caught up to her, he stood beside her and watched as she basked in the full view of Appleloosa. Eyes wider than dinner plates, she stared up and down the tall red clock tower, watched a carriage roll by and perked her ears at the sound of laughter from behind The Salt Block. Braeburn scoped out the area around Mrs. Seam’s dress shop. Once the coast was clear he nudged Starlight in that direction and she snapped from her trance.

“Burn!” she said loudly, “look, look! What is that? It’s so pretty!”

“That’s just a water trough, Starlight,” Braeburn replied, gently pushing the filly in the direction of the shop. Thankfully not many ponies were out yet, but the few that were awake watched Starlight with interest. Swallowing and putting on a smile, Braeburn waved to them and shoved Starlight a little harder.

The bell jingled as Starlight pushed open the door with her head. Stepping inside, the pony was immediately drawn to an elaborate cyan dress near the window and Braeburn removed his hat, wiping a bead a sweat from his brow. The shop’s front entrance smelt strongly of perfume and was filled with dresses, skirts and trousers all displayed on ponnequins: life sized wooden ponies to display clothing. Braeburn wasn’t sure why but they always gave him the creeps.

“Visitors, already?”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Braeburn watched as Mrs. Seam turned on some more lights and sauntered into the into the storefront, smiling widely.

“Howdy Mrs. Seam,” Braeburn said, placing his hat on the stand near the door, “how are ya this mornin’?” He tried to hide the nervousness in his voice by clearing his throat a few times.”

“Oh why, Braeburn!” the seamstress replied, “what brings you to mah shop t’day? Oh, Ah’m doin’ quite fine, thank you kindly.” Her strong accent swayed and sashayed just like her hips as she approached the stallion, the bright lights of the store gave her deep orange mane a glow.

“Well,” Braeburn began, “I got a, a friend in need of a dress, or skirt’r somethin’. It’s a bit of a special case, see, so–”

“A friend?” Mrs. Seam beamed, “Braeburn, yer spoilin’ me! First Slate the other day an’ now another friend?”

“Heh,” Braeburn chuckled and looked around the shop for Starlight. He found her on her back on the floor, admiring a dress’s frills and lace. “Mrs. Seam, this is Starlight. She’s visitin’ from–”

“Oh my stars!” the dressmaker marveled, snatching Starlight away, and holding her in her hooves, “jes’ look at you! Why, you have the most beautiful opalescent color Ah’ve ever seen! An’ yer mane!”

Starlight, looking frightened and confused, glanced between Braeburn and her assaulter. Braeburn flashed her a reassuring smile and the filly relaxed a little.

“Opal, um, op...?” she struggled.

“Opalescent, darlin’,” answered Mrs. Seam, “it’s a beautiful an’ rare coloration that changes hues dependin’ on the lightin’!” The mare turned Starlight in a circle and Braeburn watched as her hide’s colors seemed to dance and swish: light pink one moment and pale blue the next. “Oh, but this dusty ol’ jacket is hidin’ yer beautiful fur! Let’s get this raggedy ol’ thing off you!”

“Uh, erm,” Braeburn stuttered as Mrs. Seam tore his duster coat from Starlight and tossed it to the side. Starlight somehow managed to keep a hold of her book and Braeburn swallowed as the seamstress noticed exactly what he knew she would.

“Oh my, no cutie mark?”

“Uh yeah, it’s actually kind of embarrassin’ for her,” Braeburn said quickly, “it’s a long story an’ a touchy subject that she doesn’t really like ta talk about, right Starlight?” he asked, looking at the pony.

Starlight nodded slowly. “Uh-huh,” she said uncertainly.

“So she was hopin’ she could get a dress or somethin’ ta hide the fact that she ain’t got a cutie mark yet.”

Mrs. Seam clicked her tongue. “Oh you poor creature,” she said, “that must be dreadful, still havin’ a blank flank at yer age. But don’t worry, Ah’m sure you’ll find yer special gift soon enough.” Rooting through a drawer, she pulled out some measuring tape and began taking the filly’s measurements. “Well, don’t worry ‘bout it. Mah oldest didn’t get her cutie mark fer the longest time, but you know, Ah think it was all the more special fer it. What meanin’ does anythin’ have if it comes quick an’ easy? No, sometimes things take time. The best things always do.”

Braeburn smiled and watched as the dressmaker worked. She eventually convinced Starlight to put her book on a desk so she could measure her chest and made a few notes on a notepad.

“Doesn’t have ta be anythin’ too fancy,” Braeburn interjected, “just enough ta hide her–”

“Hush now,” said Mrs. Seam, “Ah’ll make it as fancy as Ah want. Don’t worry dear,” she said, smiling at Starlight, “when Ah’m through you’ll be the toast of the town! Everypony will take notice of you!”

Starlight grinned and looked over at Braeburn, whose eyes went wide with panic. He shook his head and Starlight’s smile faded.

“Actually, um,” she said, “maybe, um, not too fancy...”

“Oh, a little shy, are we?” replied the older mare, “hmm, well if you say so. Ah’ll make it however you like an’ don’t worry, when Ah’m done you’ll fit right in with the rest of the town. Nopony will see yer missin’ cutie mark.”

Braeburn heaved a silent sigh of relief. Glancing out the window and watching as a few more ponies milled about, he got antsy. “So, how long do you reckon it’ll take?” he asked.

“Now don’t you fret,” replied Mrs. Seam, examining a roll of fabric, “Ah’ll have it done it two shakes of a lamb’s tail. ‘Member how quick Ah made that dress for that pretty pink pony who came by a few months ago? Had it done within the afternoon. Oh, yes, Ah think this should do nicely, what do you think, Starlight?”

The filly was mesmerized by the colorful materials. “Yes,” she said, dreamily.

“Hm, pity Ah never got that order of camelus satin... That would’ve been just lovely on you. Ah know shipments from overseas take a li’l longer to arrive but all the same. Speakin’ of, where’re you from, darlin’?”

Starlight looked to Braeburn and he nodded.

“Um, I’m from, Mane...hattan?” she said. Braeburn grinned. He know she’d do fine.

“Manehattan? Really? That’s a lovely place, Ah lived there for a few years, you know. What part o’ the city are you from?”

Braeburn stopped breathing and stared at Starlight, who starUm,ed back at him, confused. He ravaged his mind for anything he remembered about the city of Manehattan and cursed himself for not picking Fillydelphia, the city he grew up in.

“Um, I lived near the...the tall, um...tower?” bluffed Starlight. Braeburn winced.

“Oh, the Horseshoe Tower? How lovely!” chirped Mrs. Seam, “you know, you can see all of the city from up there, but Ah’ve only been up once’r twice. You ever go up?”

“Er, no...”

“Ahh, too bad, it’s quite the sight.”

Braeburn felt his muscles relax and he smiled. Starlight would make an excellent cards player. She grinned at him, looking confused and excited at the same time.

---

Author's Note:
This chapter was unfinished, as you could see. I distinctly remember running into writer's block regarding Starlight's outfits and the process of buying them, getting outfitted for the rest of the day, etc. As such, I moved on to writing out some of the backstory, hoping I could return to this chapter and push through the writer's block. Sadly, that never really happened.

Next are two flashback sequences which take place in Braeburn's past. The tone of these sequences were decidedly darker and more serious than the rest of the story. One of the main goals of this story was to paint Appleloosa as haven from the rest of the desert and its outlaws. These flashbacks would serve to show just how brutal that desert could be, and explain Braeburn's characteristics.

Do note: There is death and the use of firearms and blood in these flashbacks. In truth, I was never certain if these flashbacks would be directly included in the complete story, or only alluded to by Braeburn as the story unfolded. I was willing to write these events and keep them forever private, just for myself, so I could know what caused Braeburn to become the way he was. Regardless, I have chosen to share it here with you.

---

Jake

He kept walking. His hooves hurt, but he kept walking. All he could see for miles around was dust, prickly brown bushes, and rocks. Except...What was that, over in the distance, on the side of that hill? A tree?

The young pony, squinting, wondered if it could just be a mirage, but he didn’t care. If there was any chance of a tree being out here then it meant there was a river nearby, and that meant plant life, which meant food, of which he had long since run dry. He galloped toward the tree, kicking great clouds of dust behind him.

“Oh, thank you!” he squealed as he approached. It was not a mirage. It was not even a mere tree, he realized as his mouth began watering.

It was an apple tree.

Incredible that something like that could survive out here, but he wasn’t about to question it. Only one apple remained in its branches, but to the young colt it was a feast. As he stared up at the fruit he heard a sudden noise from the other side of the trunk. Cautiously, he poked his nose around to see.

There was a tan stallion lying in the shade, wearing a dark brown hat and a tattered coat. His shoulder and the ground around him was stained...red.

He must have heard the colt gasp, for he looked up with tired eyes at him.

“H-hey there, kiddo,” he said before breaking into a fit of coughing, “ooh, Ah’m in bad shape...”

“Uh, mister...” the colt said, “are you...hurt?”

He let loose with a gurgly laugh. “Gotta love that ‘bout kids, always sayin’ the obvious.” He tried to rise up, but clenched his side and collapsed again. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me. Best you get out of here b’fore the others find me an’ finish the job.”

“Were you...shot?”

“Ha ha ha! Ah swear it’s like a gift. ‘Course Ah’m shot! What’s it look like?”

The colt looked up to the single apple in the tree.

“Ah was hopin’ ta get some food in me,” coughed the stallion, “turns out gettin’ an apple down is harder than it looks.” The colt stepped around to the other side of the tree and gasped at the streaks of blood running up its trunk, no further than half-way up.

“Guess Ah’m done for, then,” the stallion sighed, “didn’t think it’d end this way...”

“It’s not so hard,” the colt said.

“What was that?”

“Gettin’ an apple. Not so hard, my Pa showed me how.” The colt reared up on his front hooves and kicked the tree repeatedly until the apple snapped from its branch and fell to the dusty ground. The stallion looked up in amazement.

“Well now, that’s somethin’,” he said, “you must have some pa.”

“He owns an apple orchard outside Fillydelphia, you know!” the colt boasted.

“Ah’ll be,” he replied, “where’s he now?”

The colt studied the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Oh...Well, anyway, you enjoy yer apple then,” the stallion said weakly, resting his head on the ground.

The colt, his mouth watering, held the fruit in his hooves and prepared to bite in, but he stopped and looked to the stallion.

His face was scarred and he was thin, very thin. He wore small satchels on his sides and around his flanks were...holsters. Each held a revolver, the straps positioned so he could quickly and easily slip them over his hooves. Sticking out of his belt was the hilt of a knife. The colt placed down the apple and stepped over to the stallion, reaching for and grabbing the knife.

“Hey, hey, now!” he protested, squirming a bit, “Ah ain’t dead yet! Save yer lootin’ till after Ah’ve...huh...”

The colt, the knife between his teeth, had split the apple down the center and pushed half towards the stallion. The stallion looked up, dumbfounded at the young pony.

“C’mon now, son, you should eat the whole thing. Ah’m not worth yer kindness.”

“Why not?” the colt asked, dropping the knife.

The stallion stared at him for a moment before grimacing in pain and looking away.

“Ah’ve done some bad things, boy. Death is all Ah deserve. Ah’m worthless. You should live, though. Ah mean, look at you. You ain’t even got yer cutie mark yet. You’ve still got yer whole life ta live. Ah’ve already lived all of mine.”

The colt looked down to his bare flank for a moment, before standing tall. “I don’t think anypony’s worthless, mister.” He said, his boney ribs showing through his pelt. “We’ve all done some bad things, but we’re still good inside.”

“Ah, ta be a foal again,” the stallion laughed, “Ah wish Ah could agree with that, son, but you don’t know what Ah’ve done.”

“I don’t really care, either.”

The stallion looked disgusted and hurt at the same time, his tirade cut short. “Boy, you’ve got some guts, Ah’ll give you that.”

“But you sure don’t mister, you look like a skeleton.” He pushed the apple closer to the stallion. “Here, b’fore it goes brown.”

The stallion threw his hooves up in defeat and gave a weak laugh. “All right, all right.” He bit into it, relief and happiness washing over his dry and grizzled face. “Oh, oh that’s good...best apple Ah ever had, Ah reckon. Thank you, son.”

“You...you’re welcome,” the colt said.

A flash.

The colt’s flank tingled and when he looked down, a red apple appeared.

“Well now, look at that,” the stallion laughed, “if that ain’t somethin’, Ah don’t know what is.”

“My cutie mark!” the colt shrieked, bouncing around, “I got my cutie mark!!”

“Sure did son, an’ a fine one too, Ah’d say.”

The colt stopped bouncing and his smile faded. “I hope I can show my family someday...”

“You’ll find ‘em, kiddo.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause Ah’m gonna help you find ‘em,” he smiled, pushing himself up from the ground and collapsing again, "if Ah can stand, that is..." The stallion positioned his hooves beneath his chest and heaved, grunting in pain "DangdangdangDANG that hurts!!"

Standing on four wobbly legs he smiled widely at the young colt. “Looks like Ah got some life left in me after all. Now eat up. Yer gonna need yer strength. We’ll make a quick stop at the river an’ fill up b’fore headin’ fer town.”

The colt grinned wildly and devoured his apple half, relishing its sweetness.

“Guess Ah haven’t introduced myself yet," said the stallion, "name’s Jake.”

The small, yellow colt looked up at him. “I’m Braeburn,” he said.

“Well, Brae,” Jake said, “you ready to go an’ find yer family?”

“Yes sir!” Braeburn bounced excitedly. The pair made their way down the hill toward the river in the distance.

Thin wisps of scarlet trailed downstream.

The young colt took another drink and watched with fascination as the stallion dunked his shoulder in the water again, wincing.

“Ah’m real lucky,” Jake said, “bullet passed clean through. Ah've always been a yeller belly when it comes ta pain.”

Tearing the hem from his duster he wrapped it around his wound. “Got yer fill?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Y’don’t hafta call me sir, y’know. Makes me feel old.” He stepped out of the river and shook himself, donned his duster and fiddled with his hat a moment before placing it on his head.

“Look out there, son,” he said, pointing into the distance. “See that big cliff down there?”

“Yeah?”

“That there’s Luna’s Loft. ‘Bout two miles east from there is Low Gulch, a li’l town. Ah’ll take ya down there. Y’say you don’t ‘member where yer family was last?”

“No...”

“Well, with any luck we’ll find the sheriff or someone there who'll help ya find yer folks.”

Jake began a light gait, hopping delicately on his injured arm with Braeburn in tow.

“Now listen close, Brae,” Jake said, “Low Gulch is a gamblin' town, so Ah want ya ta stay close t’me till we find the sheriff, ‘kay? Don’t go wanderin’ off.”

“...‘Kay.”

“Ah don’t reckon that town’ll last more’n five years. Ain't much gold left ta find. Hardly thirty people there, most of ‘em salt-heads." Jake calmly pulled out one of his revolvers and flicked it, opening its barrel. He slipped a small brown bag from his vest pocket poured a few shining bullets into his hoof. Deftly he slid the new rounds into the barrel and clicked the gun shut, replaced it in his holster and repeated with his other revolver. "But it’s the best shot we got right now ta find out anythin’ ‘bout yer folks.”

Braeburn nodded absentmindedly, eyeing the stallion’s long coat and the vest underneath, every so often catching a glimpse of a revolver tucked away in its holster. The young, yellow colt wore nothing, having thrown off his satchels long ago when they were no more than empty, sticky bags.

After an hour or two of travel they stood upon a cliff, looking down on Low Gulch: hardly more than ten shoddy buildings and a saloon, flanked on the left by jagged red rocks; cacti and dirt on the right, and dry dusty desert beyond. Leading from a hole in the cliff-side, long, weather worn wooden troughs on poles zigzagged down to a dry riverbed.

“C’mon, Brae. There’s a path over here we can take ta get down.”

As they ventured down the slope Braeburn could hear the distinct sounds of the saloon’s piano mixed with shouting and a gunshot, followed by momentary silence before the piano resumed its honky tonk. Jake was unfazed.

A chill ran down Braeburn’s neck as they entered town. The buildings seemed angled, bearing down upon him with angry eyes in their broken windows. The few ponies milling about glared at the pair with equal parts confusion and disgust. A strange mare dressed in red eyed Jake and murmured something to him, but he shooed her away. A grim, thin stallion in a black suit watched them with intrigue. He marked something on an oddly shaped wooden box.

“Sheriff in?” Jake asked a passing pony.

“Should be in the saloon, Ah’d imagine,” the pony replied.

Jake guided Braeburn to the rickety double doors of the bar and paused a moment, and leaned down to the colt.

“Listen close, Brae: stay by my side an’ don’t talk ta anypony. Keep ta yerself an’ you’ll be fine.”

Braeburn swallowed. “Yes sir,” he said, shakily.

Jake pushed aside the doors. Several unshaven, loud stallions sat at the bar, gripping half-empty salt shakers or licking salt blocks. The pianist played his happy tunes while fight broke out not two yards away: a few punches followed by a kick as a scraggly stallion was thrown through an already broken window. A couple ponies cheered and everyone resumed carousing. A table in the corner was filled with seven burly stallions in large, black hats, talking loudly. Their dark eyes turned upon the pair and they fell silent, watching Braeburn and Jake with interest.

Jake tapped stallion on the shoulder. The stallion set down his salt shaker and turned his scruffy face to Jake.

“Sheriff around?” Jake asked.

“Nope, ain’t seen him fer a while.”

“Hey! Whatch you wanna see the sheriff fer?” bellowed a large stallion. He also wore a large black hat.

Jake didn’t turn to look, instead resting on the bar nonchalantly. The large stallion stood, pulled on his brown mustache and sauntered over. His coat gleamed deep red and his stench filled Braeburn’s nose. Braeburn hid behind Jake's chair.

“Ain’t got anythin’ ta do with that foal, do it?” he belched, “he sure don’t look like he’s worth much! Who'd ya swipe him from?”

Braeburn, quivering, tried to make himself as small as possible while Jake kept his eyes ahead.

“Y’know, you look awful familiar,” hissed the red stallion as he leaned in, his beady eyes glimmering, “yeah, that’s right; Ah know who you is, Jake. Or should Ah say: Stillwater!”

Jake didn’t move.

“What say y’all come quietly an’ let me collect mah bounty? This don’t hafta be no big trouble...An’ it looks like it’s mah lucky day: Ah’ll even get a hefty reward fer the foal!”

“Better back up, stranger,” whispered Jake, “Ah don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout. Now why don’t ya go back ta yer pals an’ leave us be.”

The red stallion scoffed and Braeburn peeked out from behind Jake. A pony at the end of the bar saw Braeburn, looked to Jake, back to Braeburn and back to Jake. His eyes widened.

“Wait a sec!” he shouted, “that’s him! That’s Stillwater! And look! He has that missing foal with him!!”

“He’s mine!” yelled the red stallion, “Ah found ‘im an’ he’s mine!”

“Ah ain’t nopony’s!”
Jake drew his revolvers and fired. The red stallion, clutching his ear, dove away. The bar exploded into shouts as ponies drew their weapons kicked over tables, the noise of yells and gunshots deafening Braeburn’s ears. He felt himself yanked away, over and behind the bar top where Jake held him low, ducking from gunfire and flying shards of glass. Reaching his armed hoof over the counter he blindly fired five rounds and ducked back down.

“Get out from there, Stillwater!” Braeburn heard the red stallion shout.

“Yeah, Ah want mah money!” someone else said.

“Whaddya mean, yer money!?”
“Ah-Ah meant our money! That’s-”

BANG

FLUMP

“Always hated that guy.”

At that moment Jake sprung up, the revolver on his left hoof flaring with ear-shattering explosions. Six shots, six screams and six silenced voices as Jake ducked from the next volley of bullets.

“Brae!” he shouted over the noise, “reach into my vest pocket!”

The young colt, shivering in terror, did as told and pulled out the small, jingling bag. Jake flicked his hooves and his revolvers opened, dumping empty shells onto the floor.

“Quick! Reload!”

Stunned, Braeburn pulled open the bag to reveal a dozen fresh bullets. He stared at them. They were so shiny.

“What’re you waitin’ fer!? Reload!!”

Pouring the rounds into his hoof he slipped them into the open holes in the guns, dropping a few. Jake flicked his hooves again and the revolvers snapped shut. He jumped up and fired, followed by shouts and gurgling screams.

“AUGH!”

Jake collapsed to the glass strewn floor, throwing off a revolver and gripping his arm, a few inches below his earlier wound. Blood seeped through his coat and he frothed in pain. Silence fell over the saloon, save for Jake’s groans and a shuffling noise approaching the bar. A red face peered over the edge, eyes bloodshot and crazed.

“Ooh-hoo, Stillwater! You got fight!” he spat through his mustache, dragging his blood-red hoof over the counter top. Jake swiftly aimed his revolver and pulled the lever. The red stallion ducked away but returned with a laugh as the gun gave only weak ‘clicks.’

“Out o’ rounds, eh?” he laughed, “too bad! Y’know,” he pulled his other hoof over the bar. A black pistol rested upon it and he leveled it at Jake’s head. “Sign did say wanted dead or alive, an’ right now you dead is lookin’ mighty fine!”

His pistol’s lever creaked below his hoof.

“Tanner’s gonna be real happy ta see you brung in at last!”

BANG

“Rgh...Rrrrgh...”

The red stallion collapsed.

Jake looked over in shock to Braeburn, who clumsily gripped Jake’s discarded revolver in his tiny hoof, his eyes pinpricks and his breathing quick and shallow. Jake reached over and slid the gun off the colt’s hoof.

“Thanks, Brae,” he said, “you saved my life.”

Braeburn didn’t hear him. His horrified eyes beheld the dead orbs of the red stallion’s head, spit and blood pooling on the counter beneath his gaping mouth.

The colt sputtered. “I...I...I...”

Jake tore another piece from his coat and dressed his fresh wound.

“I...I...I killed somepony...”

“Pray you never have to again.”

Braeburn looked over to Jake, who watched him with grim eyes. The world became blurry to the young colt and he buried his wet face in his hooves.

“I just wanna go home! I don’t want ta kill anypony ever again!”

“He woulda killed us, Brae. You did what was right.”

“Killing’s never right!”

“...No, it never is, but sometimes it has ta be done.”

A hoof touched the yellow colt’s shoulder.

“We need ta get out of here right now.”

A grasshopper startled Braeburn and he nearly tripped. Jake, stepping tenderly on his doubly injured arm, looked back to the colt who shuffled up the path, quietly and with wide, shimmering eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again when no words rose to his lips. Instead he sighed and resumed his trek up the dirt slope, away from the now deserted town of Low Gulch.

Braeburn licked his lips and stumbled over a jutting stone. As horrid as the sight of the red stallion was he couldn't help but fixate on it. The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became. He had seen dead ponies before; he'd come across a few skeletons in this desert, even. But to see a life snuffed out so suddenly...

"Ah reckon Ah've got Lady Luck on my side t'day," Jake broke the silence, "or maybe yer just a good luck charm. Bullet passed clean through again. One more shot an' Ah'd half expect my arm ta fall clean off."

Braeburn was silent.

"Ah don't figure it'd be smart fer us ta stay in the area, though. Best ta get as far away as possible an' just lay low fer a while."

"Why did they call you 'Stillwater?'"

Jake stopped and looked back to the colt, whose eyes were still glued to the ground.

He coughed. "Uh, it's a...a nickname. Ah got it few years back from my friends. Y'know what they say 'bout still waters, that they run deep? Well, still waters also grow cowbane."

"Cowbane?"

"Looks like a regular flower...but if'n you eat or drink any...death."

"Only for cows?"

"Everyone."

Braeburn looked up to the stallion for a moment before Jake turned away.

"It just sorta stuck with me, Ah s'pose."

"Who's Tanner?"

Jake inhaled sharply and let it out in a snarl. "A stallion on my trail. A sheriff now, an' he's gettin' quite attached ta that li'l silver star."

"Are you in trouble with the law?"

"Not so much the law, as much as it is the stallion."

"Huh?"

Jake sighed. "Don't worry 'bout it, Brae. Suffice it ta say Ah ain't exactly what you'd call a 'model citizen.' Not that Ah chose ta be this way, mind you, but sometimes life gives you lemons, then peels 'em an' squeezes 'em right in yer eyes."

Jake took a misstep and gasped in pain, jerking his injured arm up.

"Don't matter now. Brae, it seems ta me that yer folks've been lookin' fer ya, an' have been talkin' ta local authorities. But we need ta be real careful 'bout this. Sendin' out notices an' missin' posters is both good an' bad. There are types out there who'd kidnap ya an demand a bigger reward. Desperate ponies do desperate things."

Braeburn frowned. "What are you talking about? My family ain't rich."

"Ah've been around these ponies all my life," Jake replied, his voice steady, "an' Ah've found myself bein' one o' them on more than one occasion. Trust me, it don't matter if yer family can pay or not."

Jake sighed. "Long an' short is that Ah gotta personally see you back to yer family, or to a sheriff worth his salt."

Walking in silence for a moment, Jake turned when he no longer heard Braeburn's hoofsteps behind him. The young colt stood still and stared at the ground.

"Look," Jake groaned, "Ah know killin' fer the first time can-"

"S'not that," sniffled Braeburn.

Jake frowned. "Then what? Spit it out, kid!"

"How...how do I know you won't do that?" Braeburn choked, glaring up at the stallion, "you said you ain't a good pony, are you gonna demand a bigger reward? How do I know you ain't kidnappin' me right now!?"

"Shut up!" Jake shouted. His voice rang across the flat desert and Braeburn held his breath. Jake took a few steps closer and Braeburn took a step back.

"Look, kid," Jake growled, hobbling on his injured arm, "you ain't got no choice but ta trust me! Would you prefer if Ah jes' left ya out in the desert ta die? Well? You wanna be on yer own again!?"

"No!" Braeburn yelled back, "No, please no!"

"Ah trust you, Brae! You saved my life back there! What do Ah gotta do ta make you trust me? Here!" Jake pulled out one of his revolvers and Braeburn gasped. "Take it!"

He threw the gun at Braeburn's hooves.

"If'n ya don't trust me, then shoot me!"

Braeburn stared at it.

"I..."

"Well?"

Braeburn touched the gun and recoiled at the sudden image of the red stallion's dead eyes. Sobbing, he kicked the gun away.

"I don't want it."

A tumbleweed rolled by between the two ponies. Jake leaned over and picked up the revolver, tucking it back in his holster.

"Ah know it ain't easy son," he said softly, "but right now, you'll just hafta trust me that Ah'll protect you." He looked away and his voice became low. "If fer no other reason than ta try an' make up fer..."

The tan, grizzled stallion fell silent, pulling his brown buckled stetson over a glimmering eye and looked away. Braeburn swallowed and glanced around the wilderness, a vast emptiness that seemed to intensify the distance between him and Jake. A hot shiver rushed around his neck and he breathed deep. He stepped, one hoof after the other toward the stallion until he stood at his side.

"I trust you," Braeburn said softly, "you protected me back there."

"An' you saved my life, so Ah owe ya mine."

Jake's eyes, dark brown and scarred with a lifetime of mistakes, looked down to the bright green eyes of the colt and he smiled.

"Now c'mon. We'd best get movin'."

"All right, you 'member the plan, Brae?"

"...Yes."

"Good. Once he leaves the field is...hey, what's wrong?"

The small, yellow colt sighed.

"I don't want ta do this. It's wrong."

"Brae, Ah though Ah already explained this to ya."

"Yeah, but..."

"You wanna eat, don't ya?"

As if on cue, the colt's belly trembled. It felt like weeks since they'd eaten last. Had it been weeks, or only days? He couldn't remember.

"Yeah..."

"Then unless you got some money Ah don't see any other option."

"Why don't we just ask them?"

"Ask them!?"

"Maybe they can tell us the way ta town, too."

"Maybe they can-!"

Jake wiped his brow in exasperation.

"Brae, do you even know how high a price is on my head? Likely they'd send their kid to town ta get the sheriff while they sit us down b'fore a meal."

Braeburn gulped and looked out to the farmyard. Tall stalks of wheat and corn, fields of tomatoes, beans and carrots stretched out toward the farmhouse and beyond, calling out to his hungry stomach.

"Do you really think they'd do that?"

"Can't take that risk."

The farmer pony pulled a wagon near the field of corn and began plucking ears from their stalks.

"You never did tell me why you're wanted by a sheriff," Braeburn said.

Jake intensified his stare on the farmer, watching his every movement as he worked.

"It ain't the sort of thing Ah like ta dwell on."

"I think I oughta know, if'n I'm gonna be stickin' with you."

Jake looked over to the colt and grinned.

"Son, yer a smart cookie." His smile faded and his voice dropped as he turned to watch the farmer again. "But this ain't the time'r place ta discuss such things."

Braeburn wanted to say something but he could see in Jake's eyes that there was nothing left to say. He looked at Jake for a moment, whose eyes were grim and focused on the farmer yet glimmering with thought.

"Suffice it ta say Ah've done things Ah ain't proud of," Jake said solemnly. "If Ah could turn back time there's so many things Ah'd do different. Maybe...Tanner an' Ah could still..."

He breathed deep and sat tall. "Ain't no use wishin' or hopin'. This is just the way it is, the way things turned out ta be."

Braeburn sighed. "I still don't want to do this."

Jake groaned. "Brae, do you want to starve?"

"No..."

"Then get it settled in yer head: we ain't got no other choice."

Braeburn rested his head on his hooves. He shuddered at the thought of what his family would think if they knew what he was about to do.

"Look: the farmer's gone into the barn. Now's our chance!"

Jake leapt from the bushes and galloped down the hill, Braeburn following close behind as they rushed toward the smokehouse and swung open the doors.
"Catch!" Jake threw a bag of dried apples at Braeburn.

Wispy clouds stretched across the sky, lazy and thin, offering little shade to the earth below. The sky, a dull blue, reached from the rocky hillsides of the right horizon to the tall, jutting cliffs in the distance of the left. Behind them lay miles of wasteland, spotted with bristly bushes and cacti.

Sights like these had become routine for the young, yellow colt, almost a home to him. He pulled at the "borrowed" loose vest on his chest as his short coat fluttered in the dry breeze. Eyes, green and flickering with uncertainty, were fastened on what rested before them, a short trot away.

The sight of this town - a town Braeburn knew to be familiar - felt like a memory easily confused with a dream, its reality a flittering strand of doubt just out of reach. Seeing it again after so long made his head light, as though he might wake at any moment from the dream he'd had so many times before.

"So, you an' yer family visited here?"

"I think so. It was a long time ago."

Larger than any other town he'd seen in the western deserts but paltry compared to the cities in Equestria (at least, as well as he could remember), a tall, deep blue clock tower stood monolithically above the rows of buildings in the center of town. A clay archway marked the entrance to the town and a tall sign stood beside, unreadable from this distance. The entire town was held in the shade of a tall, sheer vertical red butte of rock thrice the height of the clock tower, wrapping around the left side of town. Presently, half the town basked in the late afternoon sun, the other darkened by the tall rock. A railroad curved around the cliff and veered toward the right side of town where a station lay, then turned and stretched out to the far distance. A few trees and stumps were scattered around.

"Been a long time fer me, too," said Jake.

Jake moved forward and Braeburn followed close. As they drew near they could hear the faint sound of the saloon's piano and the lettering of the tall sign by the arch came into view.

'Welcome to Troughton: Population 67'

"Why exactly were you an' yer folks wanderin' these deserts, anyway?" Jake asked.

"They said it was a vacation, but I'm sure Pa wanted to see 'bout homesteading an apple orchard and a town out here," answered Braeburn, his voice one of longing.

Jake scoffed. "In these deserts? Yer pa's got guts, Ah'll give 'im that, but Ah doubt he'd get more'n a bendy li'l twig of a tree ta grow out here."

"My pa could do anything he wanted!" Braeburn barked defensively.

"Ha ha! Ah'm sure he could. Ah didn't mean anythin' by it, Brae. Ah'd like ta meet yer pa sometime. He sounds like quite the stallion."

Braeburn smiled, thinking back to his family. He closed his eyes and tried to picture them. It took a moment of recollection, but soon he could see them, standing together, waiting for him to join them. He saw his mother, her eyes blue and her...

Wait, weren't her eyes green? Or were they blue? No, they were green, like his. And her name was...was...

He felt a hoof touch his shoulder and he looked up to Jake, who regarded the town. He pulled Braeburn away from the clay archway as a carriage passed by. Jake leaned down to whisper.

"Listen up. Ah know this town is -- as far as places out here go, a real nice town, but don't get comfy. There's still plenty o' scoundrels here who'd shoot ya as soon as look at ya. First thing we gotta do is try an' find any missin' posters yer parents might've hung around town."

Braeburn nodded sadly. He'd inwardly hoped that they might still be in town, waiting for him after all this time. His father would stand there, tall and strong and Braeburn would jump into his arms, nuzzling his father's dark orange fur.

No, wait, wasn't his fur brown? His mane was orange, wasn't it?

"Ah reckon the train station'll be the best place ta check," said Jake. "Folk's goin' in an' out all the time so it's the best place ta hang notices."

Braeburn blinked and snapped back to reality. Jake, hunching his shoulders, flipped up his collar and pulled his hat down to shade his eyes. He reached down and did the same to Braeburn's coat collar.

"Stay close an' stay quiet. Try not ta make eye contact with anypony. Last thing we need is another commotion if someone recognizes you."

After waiting until the area was deserted the two straddled the edge of town toward the train station. Braeburn stared down the roads of town as they went, admiring the well-built and brightly painted buildings. There seemed to be one main road that ran through the town. The road split at the clocktower, left into the rows of homes, right to the train station and straight to a building at the base of the red cliff. Braeburn tried to imagine what it would look like from above: a cross inside a red moon. A drastic change from the grungy town of Low Gulch, Troughton was clean and tidy, its roads filled with friendly and smiling ponies.

A short walk later, Jake and Braeburn arrived at the train station, a pale blue building with a few benches out front and a pair of ticket windows. A few ponies occupied the station, reading the paper or chatting with each other. Most seemed very well-to-do, wearing handsome suits or dresses with bowler caps or parasols, although several more 'rugged' stallions lounged about as well. A trio of ponies in large, black hats laughed and cantered off toward the town saloon. For some reason their hats seemed very familiar to Braeburn.

Jake, keeping his face hidden from passersby, examined a wall of posters with pictures of ponies on them. He glanced about to make sure nopony was looking and ripped one off the wall, passing it quickly to Braeburn without a word, pointing to Braeburn's vest with his eyes. Braeburn, obediently, stuffed it into a pocket.

"Lessee..." Jake mumbled as he perused the remaining posters. "Aha!" He lifted a hoof and tapped one. Braeburn craned to look and saw the word 'MISSING', beneath which was a photograph of him. A photo he recognized: it was one of him and his family together, although his family had been cut from the picture. His father's hoof was still in the frame, resting on the young colt's shoulder, although the photo was black and white so he couldn't see the color of his arm. Braeburn frowned sadly.

"Shoot, five hundred bit reward fer findin' ya. Yer folks really miss ya."

Braeburn smiled widely. For a while, he was afraid that --

Jake cursed suddenly, tore the poster from the wall and pushed Braeburn around to the back of the station.

"What?" asked Braeburn, "what is it?"

"They've teamed up with Tanner."

Braeburn bit his lip and Jake stomped a hoof in frustration.

"Dangit! Dangit all, dangit!"

Jake crumpled and tossed the paper to the ground, mumbling and pacing angrily. Braeburn gingerly unfolded the poster and examined it. Beneath the photo of him and the reward was the contact information:

'If seen or found, contact Sheriff Tanner.'

"Ah hoped we could get in touch with the sheriff yer folks were workin' with but of course it had ta be Tanner!"

Braeburn delicately folded the poster and was about to slide it into his vest pocket but it bumped into the paper Jake passed him, which he pulled out and spread on the ground. Jake hobbled over to see.

'WANTED: 'STILLWATER' JAKE FOR LARCENY, MURDER, TRESPASSING, ASSAULT, DISTURBING THE PEACE, ATTEMPTED TRAIN ROBBERY, SLANDER, FOUL LANGUAGE, AMONG OTHERS
1000 Bit Reward Dead, 3000 Alive
CONTACT SHERIFF TANNER IF SEEN OR CAUGHT'

"Now he's added train robbery?" scoffed Jake, "he's gettin' desperate now." He snatched away the wanted poster and tore it apart with his teeth, scattering its pieces to the wind. "Won't be long now 'til he adds 'kidnappin'' to the list, Ah'm sure."

Braeburn watched them flitter away. He looked back to Jake who spat out the last piece of paper. The stallion stood tall and angry, his left arm swollen at the shoulder and wrapped in reddish cloth. Brown eyes glimmered beneath his brown Stetson and he glared into the distance.

"Tanner..." he murmured, "Tanner, why'd things have ta get like this..."

"You..."

Braeburn cleared his throat.

"This ain't true...is it?"

Jake, his eyes narrowed and terrifying, looked down to Braeburn. The colt took an instinctive step away.

Jake released a sad sigh. "True enough, though Ah never tried ta rob a train. 'Rawhide's' fond o' stretchin' the truth."

"But...murder, and the others...?"

Jake stared out into the distance. "Ah done my share. Not as much as them wanted signs'll say, but...suffice it ta say, Ah'm not innocent, an' 'Rawhide's' tryin' ta get as many people after me as he can. Sooner Ah get brung in the better. Fer him."

"Who's..." Braeburn shivered. "Who's 'Rawhide?'"

"Tanner. 'Rawhide' Tanner ta his prey. He's a cold, angry an' driven stallion." He looked longingly to the dusty ground. "Didn't used ta be, though."

Braeburn pulled on his coat. It was too warm but Jake insisted he wear it to hide his yellow fur. They found it on a clothesline, drying in the wind.

Keeping his eyes to himself, the young colt padded the ground. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"Ah...Ah don't know."

A distant train whistle echoed, amplified by the tall cliff of rock. A thin plume of black smoke rose above the horizon.

"But we can't stay here," Jake said, "let's try an' get some supplies an' peel out b'fore we're seen. Lucky that stiff we found had a few bits on 'im."

Braeburn didn't shudder at the memory of the dead body they found yesterday, and this indifference disturbed him.

Keeping their collars up and their heads low they weaved through town, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible while avoiding contact with townsfolk, a task made difficult as a traveling salespony attempted to use them in a demonstration of his 'cure all' elixir. Jake, after being badgered too long, hissed something into the pony's ear whose eyes became dinner plates and he bolted away.

As they passed the saloon, Jake took a moment to stare through the double doors and hum a little to the sound of the piano. Once a pair of large, burly stallions approached the entrance however, Jake quickened his gait down the road. They followed the main road down to the building at the edge of the cliff: the general store. Jake eyed the area, waiting for an opportune moment when nopony was around. One arose shortly but just as the two made for the door voices came from the left and Jake grabbed Braeburn by the scruff of his neck and pulled him around the side of the building where they crouched in the shade.

"Well, we ain't got no leads yet, Sheriff," said one voice, "but the others'r still checkin' the area out. From what Ah heard, it sound like the Rattlers had no small part in it. Ol' Slick was found dead on the bar."

"Tch," scoffed the other, "that gang's caused nothin' but trouble. Can't wait ta get 'em under control."

"Well' t'were a stroke o' genius ta get another sheriff on the case, sir."

"You sayin' Ah couldn't do the job mahself!?"

"No! No sir! Ah jes' meant that with two sheriff's on the case - with you leadin', of course - them Rattlers'll be brung in in no time."

Two shadows approached and Braeburn huddled close to Jake, who he could feel tense up, ready to fly at any moment. Just as the shadows, each topped with a large hat, were about to round the corner they stopped. Braeburn glanced down the alley, hoping to find an escape route, but it was a dead end, filled with empty crates and barrels with the sheer vertical cliff towering above.

"Yeah, well Ah jes' hope he gets here soon."

"Oh, Ah wouldn't worry 'bout that, sir. Ah jes' saw his train pullin' into town a minute ago; he should get here any sec."

Jake twitched.

"Uh, what was his name, again?"

"Tanner."

Jake hissed a curse and took a step back, knocking against a barrel.

He froze.

"Hey, you hear somethin'?"

The shadows sprung to life.

"RUN!"

Two blurs rushed past the sheriff and his deputy, who stood dumbly for a moment before giving chase.

"Hey, hey! Hold up!"

Jake and Braeburn weaved through the town, dodging between ponies and fruit stands. Braeburn risked a look behind them to see their pursuers struggling to keep up. A smile tugged on Braeburn's lips and he swiftly bucked the wheel of a nearby vegetable cart, sending gourds and cabbages tumbling across the road. The two stallions stumbled and fell on their snouts.

"Nice one, Brae!" Jake gasped for air.

"You little brat!"
Jake made a hard right and bolted blindly down a side road. Braeburn, his chest quivering with adrenaline, strained to keep up as they avoided the stunned innocents. Galloping hooves gained ground behind them and Jake made another turn.

"Get back here!!" shouted the stallions. A few ponies in the road took to throwing things at the fleeing pair and one pony even tried to tackle Jake but he was quickly shaken off. Braeburn managed to dodge the horseshoes thrown his way but one smashed into Jake's side and he stifled a yelp, stumbling over his hooves a moment before making yet another turn onto the main, open road's four-way intersection.

He paused for a moment and glanced around. The left road led to the general store again, behind which was the cliff of rock: a dead end. To the right was a straight shot for the town entrance, but the road was filled with vendors, fruit stands and ponies, making that route difficult to navigate. Ahead was the train station, where a long, black locomotive rested, smoke billowing from its engine. Its whistle blew and it chugged to life, slowly pulling away from the station.

"Hey, hey that's Stillwater!" somepony to the right shouted, and all eyes turned to the pair.

"This way!" Jake shouted, running toward the station, "get on the train!"

The train, its wheels hissing and churning, rolled away from the station, each of its dark red cars passing in a blur, too fast, too fast!

"We won't be able to catch it!" Braeburn squealed as they ran, his heart pounding in his throat. He looked back to see the two chasing stallions coming ever closer, their breath short and their eyes blazing.

Just as they leapt up the wooden steps and onto the platform the train's last car rolled by, just out of reach.

They watched it go.

Panting for breath, they looked to the other side of the station.

Jake inhaled sharply and he froze.

One stallion stood on the other side, wearing a large-rimmed grey hat and a long duster reaching to his spurred boots. His eyes, a stoney grey, flashed with recognition.

"Tanner!" Jake cried.

Tanner stood in shock until a wicked, horrible grin crept across his lips and he tossed his duster aside to reveal a terribly long rifle. He pulled it from its holster.

"Jake, hurry!!"

Braeburn bit onto Jake's coat and pulled him away. Jake's wits returned and he ran, tumbling over his hooves as he jumped the tracks to the right of the station.

BANG

Braeburn felt the fur of his ear tingle and he looked to Tanner, whose rifle was leveled upon the two. He slung it over his back and gave chase as Jake and Braeburn bolted past the station toward the rocky hills.

"Sheriff Tanner! Yer jes' in time!" Braeburn heard the deputy shout through ringing ears. Another shot whizzed by and the two galloped as fast as their legs would take them.

The rocky hills in the distance looked miles away as Jake and Braeburn ran. Shots screamed past them and Jake fired a few rounds back, hopping deftly upon his hind legs while firing. The ground at last became rocky and they hurried up the slopes, leapt over a boulder and ducked down. Jake leaned around the corner and fired several times. A voice shrieked and there was a thud as Jake recoiled from a sudden barrage of bullets.

"Jake!" Braeburn shouted over the noise, "What do we do!?"

Jake, gasping for air, glanced around the rocky hills. He pointed toward a slope of red hoodoos, above which was a flat plateau. "There!" he shouted, "let's try an' lose em through there!"

After firing blindly Jake jumped to his hooves and charged across the side of the hill. Braeburn almost slipped down the loose gravel as he followed and could hear the two sheriffs behind clambering up the side of the hill toward them.

"No use runnin', Jake!" Tanner shouted, "this is yer last stand! An' it looks like you got yerself a li'l helper, too!"

"Ah think he's the missing foal!" the other sheriff panted.

"Oh ho, yer a kidnapper now too, eh? Jake, Ah didn't think even you could sink so low! Yer bounty's jes' goin' up by the minute!"

Fighting against the slippery slope, Braeburn followed Jake through the labyrinth of hoodoos. He coughed at the dust they kicked up and they ducked behind a large hoodoo. Braeburn was momentarily worried the flat stone on top of the multi-layered tower of rock would topple and crush the two. Jake peered around the corner and fired a few rounds before flicking open his revolvers and fumbling with his bullets.

"Look fer a way out!" he hissed. A shot cracked the stone near Jake's head causing him to flinch and drop a few bullets. Braeburn leaned down to pick them up but Jake pushed him away.

"Never mind the bullets, look fer a way out!!"

Braeburn swallowed and looked around. They were about half way up the hill, but their path upwards was blocked by a wall of hoodoos and a vertical face of rock. To the right was what looked like a thin path leading up through the rocky spires, straddling the steep cliff.

"There’s a path!" Braeburn offered, pointing.

Jake glanced up and grunted. "Looks tight! You go, Ah’ll cover you!"

Leaping out from behind the hoodoo, Jake fired a few shots as Braeburn dashed toward the small pathway. As he squeezed between the red towers he heard a yelp echo across the hillside and he stopped.

“Jake?” Braeburn’s legs felt frozen.

A second of silence passed and Jake’s face appeared in the path.

“Keep moving!!”

The stallion pushed through the tight passage and gave the colt a kick, which finally got Braeburn’s heart pumping again.

"Did ya hit Tanner?" asked Braeburn.

"No, got the other one, though. He ain't gettin' back up."

Jake grunted in pain, his wounded arm scraping against the rocks. At last they exited the path and found themselves on a tiny hill, sharp drops on every side and two stubby hoodoos in the middle.

Jake cursed. “Dead end!” He looked up at the plateau above and the gorge between it and the hill. “Ain’t no way we’re getting across that!” He ran over to the other side and looked down the slope. “Too steep. We’re stuck.”

Shuffles and curses came from the rock passage and Braeburn felt teeth dig into the scruff of his neck, dragging him behind one of the short hoodoos.

“This might be our last stand, Brae,” Jake said, panting heavily. He looked around furiously for any exit. “Our only chance is ta try ta slide down that hill,” he motioned to the downwards slope on his right. “It’s steep but we got no other way out.”

The stallion hopped to the other hoodoo, stood, and walked toward the slope. Braeburn was about to follow but stopped as a voice chilled his blood.

"Hold it right there, Jake."

The world fell into silence.

"'Bout time Ah got you cornered like the rat you are," Braeburn heard Tanner chuckle, "ain't got nowhere ta run this time, Jake."

"Tanner, listen-"

"No, you listen! Ah'm gonna drag yer sorry hide back ta town an' yer gonna pay fer what ya done!"

"Ah'm sorry 'bout what happened! Ah didn't want it ta be this way..."

"Oh, oh yer sorry, are ya? Well that jes' makes all the pain go away, don't it? Sorry ain't enough!!"

Braeburn fought back a sob and watched as Jake stared straight ahead at Tanner, who was hidden from Braeburn’s sight by the hoodoo. Jake glanced at him with terrified eyes.

A cold chill rushed around Braeburn’s neck and he felt an energy surge through his legs. Creeping around the rock the other way he saw Tanner from behind, holding his long rifle level with Jake’s head. He stood dangerously close to the downwards slope.

Braeburn’s eyes narrowed.

"Ah've been waitin' so long fer this," Tanner said quietly. "You have no idea what Ah've gone through."

"Ah do, Tanner, Ah-"

"SHUT UP!!" Tanner's rifle wavered. "Ah didn't become a sheriff so Ah could let you insult me!!”

Braeburn licked his lips and tensed his legs.

“Ah could’a been happy, Jake,” Tanner said, his voice low. “Could’a had everythin’ Ah wanted.” He gripped his rifle and aimed at Jake’s head. “Ah oughta shoot you jes’ like you shot-”

"AAAHH!" Braeburn shrieked and lunged at Tanner. The stallion glanced behind him and the two locked eyes for a moment before Braeburn crashed into him, sending him careening off the cliff side. The young colt barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the drop and pull himself up. He looked down and watched with interest as Tanner tumbled down the hill, bounced off a rock and landed in a crumpled heap at the base of the incline a dozen yards down.

Tanner tried to stand but collapsed onto his hoof which bent unnaturally. He swore loudly and spat.

"You little piece of-! Ah'll kill you, you little urchin!!" He reached for his rifle but couldn't support his own weight and coughed loudly. “You got no idea what ya just done!!”

Jake came and stood next to Braeburn, looking down on the stallion.

"Yer dead, Jake!" Screeched Tanner, "you an' that little brat are gonna be on every wanted poster by mornin'!!"

"C'mon, Brae," Jake said, pulling the young colt away.

"You hear me, Jake!? You an' that kid are DEAD!!" Tanner's voice echoed around the tall cliffs of rock. Braeburn blinked a tear out of his eye as he was led away by Jake.

"AH'LL HUNT YOU TA THE END OF THE WORLD, JAKE! AH'LL MAKE YOU PAY FER WHAT YOU TOOK AWAY FROM ME!!"

Jake stared straight ahead.

---

Author's Note:
Following is a small sequence which would have large ramifications... but I'll keep its exact placement in the timeline a secret for now.

---

Tanner finds the Kidnapper

“Hey, ‘Rawhide!’ Up here!”

Tanner turned, duster flying behind him and he trotted up the low incline. Two stallions stood before a small cave in the side of the cliff, peering in and whooping. He winced at the glare of their polished deputy’s stars and pulled his large rimmed hat down over his eyes for the ascent.

“Phoo-wee, Tanner!” the stallion on the left wheezed, a fatter pony whose forehead glistened with sweat. He tried to cool himself with his hat. “Sure took us long ‘nuff ta corner ‘im!”

“He in there?” Tanner asked, glancing into the dark embrace of the cave.

“Sure is,” said the right stallion. His voice never broke an octave, low and gravelly behind a bushy grey mustache. “Listen real close an’ you can hear her squirm.”

Tanner perked his ears: muffled grunting and struggles from a young filly hardly five yards away, concealed in the darkness.

“All right, we know yer in there,” Tanner shouted, his voice rumbling in the small cave. “Ah’m tired of chasin’ you down! C’mon out an’ we’ll make things easy.”

“He ain’t movin’,” said the fat one, replacing his hat, “time ta flush him out?”

“Give him a sec.”

“Let...me...GO!”
“OUCH!”

A filly, still too young to have earned a cutie mark, rushed out of the alcove, her light pink coat mussy and covered in dirt. A cursing voice huddled further into the cave as the filly ran up to Tanner, who checked her for any injuries and pushed her over to the mustached stallion.

“Looks like ya lost yer ransom!” bellowed Tanner, “now get outta there or we’ll start shootin’ an’ drag yer corpse away!”

“Don’t shoot!”

A stallion, ribcage and cheekbones poking out beneath his scraggly brown coat, crawled out from the darkness, limping. His right hoof was glowing with a fresh bite mark.

“Shee-oot, boy! Y’all are dun’ near a pile o’ bones fer the birds ta pick!” chortled the fat stallion.

The scrawny pony fell to the ground. “Please, sheriff!” he groveled, “Ah...Ah didn’t mean no harm! Ah wouldn’ta hurt a hair on her head! Ah jes’...”

Tanner’s face radiated contempt.

The stallion broke into sobs. “Sir, please...Ah...Ah lost all mah money at the games, an’ mah job at the quarry was all Ah had!”

“A gambler, too,” clicked Tanner.

The pony paled. “When the quarry fell under, Ah lost mah job! Ah ain’t got no money...no food ta eat! S’been days since Ah’ve eaten more’n a berry! Ah...Ah didn’t want ta do it, but Ah saw the farm, an’ her parents, an’ they looked well off, an’ then Ah saw her playin’ outside an’ her parents went in, and...Ah needed the money! Ah-Ah...please, Ah ain’t never done nopony wrong! Give me another chance!”

“Another chance!?” scoffed Tanner, towering over the cowering pony, “another chance ta do what? Kidnap another filly?”

“No! No, Ah swear in Celestia’s name-”

Tanner spat in his face.

“Don’t you dare speak our Princess’ name! You ain’t deservin’ of another chance!”

He took a long breath through bared teeth.

“You criminal scum are all the same. Goin’ an’ breakin’ the law, hurtin’ others, an’ then ya have the gall ta ask fer forgiveness!”

His eyes no more than slits, he leaned in close to the pony. “Well, let me tell you somethin’, kid: Ah’m the law ‘round here, an’ ain’t no crime goin’ unpunished while there’s a breath in mah mouth.”

“Please, have mercy!”

“Mercy? Mercy, he says.”

Fatty wheezed a laugh while Mustache stood unblinking.

Tanner cocked his head to the side. “Tell me, son, you got any family? Wife, relatives, children; anythin’ like that?”

“N-no, sir, Ah...” he whimpered, “Ah ain’t got no family.”

“Good. That makes this easy.”

Tanner looked over to Mustache and nodded. The stallion lifted a hoof to cover the filly’s eyes.

Slipping a hoof under his duster Tanner deftly slid the loop of his pistol around his hoof and drew it, aimed squarely for the stallion’s shrunken eyes and fired.

The body, limp, fell to the ground with a thud; head hidden in shadows. A thin trail of blood ran between the rocks.

Tanner breathed deep of the smoking barrel and with a twirl returned it to its hidden holster.

“Our kidnapper’s still on the loose, boys!” he announced, turning to face his deputies. “Goes by the name of Braeburn.”

“S’pose we ain’t pressin’ charges,” said Mustache with a wink. “So, what ‘bout him?” He nodded at the body.

“What ‘bout who?” shrugged the sheriff.

“Whoo, ain't nopony gun' be lookin' fer this no-name stiff!" snickered Fatty.

“Ah'm countin' on it. Get rid of the body somewhere nopony’ll find it.”

“And the girl?”

Mustache held the trembling form of the tiny filly under his arm. Tanner stepped close and leaned down to her, looking her in a blue, panic-stricken eye.

“Don’t worry, love, yer safe now.” He stood tall and faced Mustache. “Take her back ta her farm. Her mother’s prob’ly worried sick. Oh, an’ give ‘em a couple dozen bits ta keep this whole thing quiet. We don’t need nopony interferin’ with our hunt with tall tales of some dirty nopony stealin’ fillies,” he said, giving the corpse a kick.

Mustache nodded and lifted the filly onto his back. “You’re the boss, ‘Rawhide.’” He trotted down the hill and Fatty, dragging the body, followed, giving a whoop.

“Hoo-wee, we’s goin’ on a pony hunt!” he brayed, “poor bloke ain’t stand a chance! Braeburn, what was his name, yeah? Say, what’d ya reckon this stiff’d float in the river?”

Tanner looked out into the desert wilderness.

“Better watch out, boy,” he hissed, eyes cold, “it’s time ta finish the job.”

He hopped down the rocky cliff.

“Pearl Hearts...yer finally gonna be avenged.”

---

Author's Note:
Again, thank you very much for reading. If I can be honest, I haven't read over this story in many many years, and don't even fully remember everything about it anymore, not even this unfinished portion I've just uploaded. In the coming days, I plan to re-read the story and post an addendum chapter which could explain what direction the story would have gone and some of my other ideas which never saw fruition.
Thanks again, sincerely, for reading. I would greatly appreciate if you left a comment or two, so I know this was seen by someone.
-TotalOverflow

Comments

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

11898698
Hello fellow time traveler I might have to start over your story because I honestly don't remember a thing from almost a decade ago (at least as far as reading choices are concerned) but then again, I might struggle to tell you exactly what I had for lunch last week but I can tell you in pretty good detail about a funny situation from Highschool.

[TotalOverflow]

11898724
You aren't alone! I need to re-read it myself. It's lived rent free in my head ever since I started writing it. But I'm very pleased you saw this update. Thank you sincerely.

[TotalOverflow]

I've just spent the last few days re-reading this story. It's been many years since I read it, and I can't lie, I even found myself getting wrapped up in it and wondering what would happen next. There's a not-so-small party of me that is very tempted to continue writing, another part that wants to go back and refine what's already there, and another part that wants to let it rest as it is. I'm undecided which path to go down right now.
All that said, I do have some old bits and pieces of art i did for this story, which I'm considering posting as well (Though I'd first need to figure out how to post images here and where to host them, haha). Let me know your thoughts.