"PONIES FOR CHEAP" Part 2 (Apple Bloom) (WIP)

 

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The sun rises over the farm, seeping through the gaps between the pieces of wood that make up the ponies’ barn. By the time Applejack and Big Mac rise, Braeburn’s already stood up and ready to be unharnessed. The two look at him, and Applejack’s the first to speak.

 

“B-Braeburn!” she says, a hushed but urgent tone about her.

 

Braeburn doesn’t respond, looking at her before looking around the barn, as though he doesn’t know who she’s talking to. Applejack’s jaw drops. She trots forward, gently bringing a hoof up to his chin, causing Braeburn to flinch. More than a flinch. Braeburn throws his head back and it bangs against the wooden wall behind him in order to avoid her touch. He hardly reacts to the impact, looking down at Applejack with nothing like confusion or fear in his eyes, just a vacant expression. Applejack swallows a lump that feels like a boulder and blinks repeatedly to fan the tears welling up.

 

“B-Braeburn.. Say somethin’, Braeburn..”

 

Still no response. He looks like a stupid animal, standing there unaware of what’s even going on. Applejack’s about to collapse when the sliding door to the barn opens with a couple hitches and clunks. Braeburn lowers his head and kneels down, letting out a slurred “Yes, master” before even receiving a command.

 

“Hey, you two, look at the orange one. That’s how ‘yer meant to greet me when I come in,” the farmer said, walking forward with two collars in his hand.

 

“‘Cept, he’s not workin’ today.”

 

“Yyyes, master.”

 

“Shut up, you!” the farmer erupted, causing Braeburn to fall silent as the other two ponies gasped.

 

He walks up to Braeburn, untying him from the post and bringing him outside, dropping the two collars on the floor of the barn. On his way out, the two can just barely hear him mutter “waste of money” under his breath, and they shudder. It takes everything for Applejack not to shriek in desperation, while Big Mac begins to bleed with how hard he’s biting his lip. They assume the worst. A couple minutes later, they hear a loud, far off pop that echoes out through the entire estate, almost rattling the wood that surrounds them. Neither Applejack nor Big Mac realize what the sound was that they heard. Braeburn slumps to the floor where he stood.

 

“Pushed ‘em too far.. Seems these ones’re more fragile than the real deal, for all their positives.. Ain’t no use from him, no more.”

 

The farmer gathers the pony by the four legs, much like he would a deer that he’d hunted, and takes it through the gate at the front of the property, before trekking deep into the woods to discard Braeburn. A few minutes after the fact, he returns to the barn, reaching down and grabbing the collars off the floor before advancing to the petrified Applejack and Big Mac.

 

Without a word, he clicks the collars onto either pony. Applejack almost reflexively bites his hand, but is stopped by the thought of what just happened to Braeburn. Big Mac gives no resistance as well. “Training” complete.

 

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A couple minutes later, after some explanation of movies that’s met with fascination from the filly, Apple Bloom is parked on her haunches in the center of the office chair in your room. She makes the thing look huge. She’s watching the Spongebob movie, and doesn’t budge an inch except to breathe, her wide eyes glued to the screen. Guess she didn’t have much entertainment in “Ponyville”.

 

After getting your keys and making sure you were set to leave, you pop your head back in to see her entranced by the colors, and you have to snap to get her attention.

 

“H-huh? Whut..” she asks, looking at you with a face that’s really, really obvious about wanting to look back at the screen.

 

“Nothing, I’m just about to leave. If you want anything, now’s the time to tell me.”

 

“N-nuh uh, Ah’m fine…” she says, turning her head back to the monitor as her face is lit up again. You walk over and reach around the side of the monitor, turning the brightness down a little. Apple Bloom hardly reacts. Were you really sitting in front of that for so many hours every day? Leaving a final pat on Apple Bloom’s head, you walk back to the door, calling out to her as you leave.

 

“I’m going now, Apple Bloom. I’ll be back soon.”

 

She responds in affirmation, but you doubt she comprehended a word.

 

You’re making your way down the road, running the images through your head again. Apple Bloom had earlier described her siblings to you, even her cousin for good measure, and you were trying to recall them perfectly, almost like you were quizzing yourself. For whatever reason, Apple Bloom hadn’t described her grandma, but you didn’t even want to ask why.

 

“Big Mac, stallion, he’s big.. Duh.. and he’s red.. Orange mane.. Freckles.. His.. “cutie mark” is a green apple.”

 

You felt stupid saying “cutie mark” out loud, but it was better than anything you could think of for the pictures you’d seen on the butts of the few ponies you’d seen around or on the PONIES FOR CHEAP website. Apple Bloom didn’t have one, but she had seemed really sad when you asked about it, so you didn’t pry.

 

“Applejack, mare, orange, freckles, yellow mane.. Her “cutie mark” is three red apples..”

 

“Babs Seed.. filly, brown, freckles, pink mane.. Her cutie mark is a pair of scissors..”

 

That all sounded right, surprisingly enough. A red stallion, or a filly with a pink mane, shouldn’t sound right. But you continued repeating each description as you neared the address after around twenty minutes of driving. Your entranced repetition was interrupted, though, as you hit a pothole that could only exist because you were out on the bumpkinfuck nowhere roads, nearly biting your tongue off because of the impact.

 

It sounded and felt like it was brutal on your car, or at least your tire. You clicked your hazards on and pulled as far off the road as you could without sliding into the ditch, and stepped out to assess the damage. Much to your dismay, the front passenger tire was flatter than a used condom, looking pitifully deflated as you remembered the low tire pressure warning that you’d ignored up until now.

 

“Fuck.”

 

For a little while, you just stared at the tire in all of its glory, wondering what you’d do. You didn’t have a spare, or even the tools to change a tire, and you didn’t really have anyone you could call. A few minutes later, you walked back around to the other side of your car. When you did, you saw a truck peeling up the road that gave its horn a couple of playful honks before pulling off the road and parking in front of you. You let out a heavy breath as you thanked your lucky stars, which seemed to be plentiful. A seedy, overworked looking redneck stepped out of the truck, the hard sole of his boots making a nice clicking sound on the asphalt. It reminded you a little of Apple Bloom’s hooves. You greeted him with a wave and tried to sound as earnest and respectable as you could.

 

“Talk about timing, I can’t have been out here for more than a couple minutes,” you said, extending an arm as the man walked towards you and took it in his calloused hand for a firm shake.

 

“Well, guess it’s ‘yer lucky day, son. What’ve you got, a flat?” he asked, leaning to look over your shoulder before his eyes meet the decrepit corpse of your front passenger tire.

 

“Christ’s cakes, I ain’t ever seen a tire flattern’ that one!” he said with a guffaw, his hand landing on your shoulder.

 

“‘Gotta spare, or am I gonna hafta tow ya’? I got everything she could need over on my property.”

 

“Oh, I haven’t got anything. If you could tow me, I’d be happy to pay for everything.”

 

“Pay?” he asked, with mock offense.

 

“Look, first one’s on the house!” he said, letting out another guffaw, “I got so many tiresn’ so many helping hands, you’ll be back on the road quicker than a nascar stop!”

 

You were gracious. The guy’s accent wasn’t from here but he luckily brought his southern hospitality with him when he moved up north. You extended your hand for a shake again as you started to thank him.

 

“You can thank me by bein’ more watchful on these roads. Don’t know why ‘yer up in these parts, but clearly you ain’t been burned ‘til now,” he said, walking up to his truck and grabbing a couple things out of the bed before walking over to yours.

 

You meant to respond affirmatively, but you couldn’t find the words as you watched him quickly get on the ground and hook some stuff to the front of your car, an intricate looking set up forming between the two vehicles. It didn’t seem like his first time doing this.

 

“N-need a hand?” you asked, expecting him to wave you off.

 

“Put ‘er in neutral, ‘sall.” he said, rising from the ground and walking back to his truck. You opened your door, sat down, and did so before getting back out and walking around to the passenger side of his truck, opening the door and sitting inside next to him.

 

“Thanks again, really. I know this isn’t the best first impression, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, anyways,” you said, clicking your seatbelt, “I don’t live too far from here, my name’s Anonymous.”

 

“Well, Anonymous, pleasure’s all mine. Another task’ll just help the day pass faster. I’m Travers, by the way,” he said, giving his last name.

 

The rest of the ride was fairly silent. He must’ve sensed your embarrassment and let off on the southern way of shooting the shit with maximum precision and efficiency. About ten minutes of driving later, he pulled into a long, gravel driveway that reminded you of yours. It went on for longer, though. You eventually met with a metal gate, which was opened with the click of a button on a remote he had mounted on the dash. Looking around, you noticed the unique metal fencing surrounding the place and realized just where you were.

 

Trying not to let on, you throw some casual glances across the property, which is sprawling after he drives through the gate.

 

“Big, ain’t it? I worked hard to get the land, now the land’s a lot more hard work!” he says, amused with himself. You give a chuckle as you continue surveying the area, trying to appear casual.

 

He drives around the property, eventually to a metal construction with a curved roof, like a detached garage you’ve seen around some poorer homes. It looks nothing of the sort, though, with immaculate welding and materials. He gets out after backing in front of it, and you follow. While he’s on the other side of the car, you turn your head on a swivel, on the look out for any flashes of orange or red. Nothing, though.

 

“I’ma unhook her, think you cn’ back her into the place?” he yells out.

 

“Yeah, I can manage,” you respond. You’re not a bad driver.

Soon, you’re stood outside the garage while Travers goes to get his son to change your tire. He says his son loves cars and will be eager to do it, so that’s nice. Walking out in front of the truck, you continue looking around the place. Apple Bloom’s family probably wasn’t here, admittedly, but for some reason you kept expecting another one of those ponies to pop out around the corner and stare at you with those giant, shining eyes. You’re brought to attention by the Travers and the lanky teen behind him exiting the giant house in the center of the property. The kid gives a curt wave which you return, Travers walking up to you as the kid disappears into the garage.

 

“I told him the deal. He’ll be done quick. Good kid, that one.”

 

You nod and cock your head around in a way that you think looks natural, scanning for any sign of ponies.

 

“‘Snice, ain’t it? I got a lot of things ‘round here, really. I don’t think ‘yer planning on starting a farm yourself any time soon, but let me tell you, it ain’t a money maker ‘till the fifth year or so.. But once you make it there..” he trails off with a snap of his calloused fingers.

 

“That right?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, business don’t necessarily take off once you got everything in place.. But having the foothold makes it feel that way. ‘Specially when you got the whole family on deck ‘widdit,” he proudly explains, clearly happy to show off.

 

You nod and agree some more, and he crosses his arms as he looks around, searching for something. He notices you glancing at him, and explains.

 

“‘Snothing. Thought I’d show you somethin’ if I saw it, but I don’t.”

 

It’s almost as if he wanted to pique your interest. You took the opportunity to look around without raising suspicion, though.

 

“You seen them new horses that got brought here? The colorful ones?” he asks, making you freeze your searching before turning to him a few seconds later.

 

“Y-yeah.. I haven’t seen many, though.. Just on TV, really..”

 

“That so? You’ve gotta see em’, then, son!” he says, walking off in another direction with a wave to beckon you to follow him. You do so.

 

“You have some?” you ask, catching up as he looks around.

 

“Yeah, I got three, actually. I.. I mean, two. Just picked up two of ‘em yesterday. Cute things, and they do good work.”

 

You know now that it’s definitely Apple Bloom’s family. It had to be, right? You continued acting coy, trying to get him to reveal more as you acted incredibly interested.

 

“They expensive? These.. Horses. I haven’t heard anything from anybody with one.”

 

“Expensive? Damn right they're expensive! I had to shill out more than I did for my biggest tractor for the two I got! It’s worth it, though, damn smart things, with some strong bodies to boot,” he said, an anxious feeling rising in your chest as you rounded the house, making it to another corner of the property.

 

“One of ‘em’s in that thicket over there, doin’ some tree cutting. A horse, cuttin’ trees! You won’t believe it ‘till you see it, in Jesus’s name,” he says, picking up the pace a little as you both head toward a dense clump of short trees. Sure enough, as you approach, you begin to hear the rhythmic sound of an axe being brought into the wood, over and over again, along with some grunts. Feminine grunts. This must be Applejack, then?

 

You walk past some trees, guided by Travers, before seeing her stood in front of a particularly thick one. A large pile of logs sits behind her, lumber from at least three trees. She flinches at the sight of you two in her peripheral, dropping the axe on the floor before quickly picking it back up, keeping her head low. Sure enough, she’s an orange mare with a yellow mane and tail, sporting three red apples on her flank. She’s got a heavy looking collar around her neck.

 

“Lookit her, all scared of me. I ain’t even have to touch em, and she’s the most timid little critter you ever did see after a bit of “training”. I can even trust her with that there axe!” he boasts, jutting a finger in Applejacks direction, in response to which she flinches heavily.

 

“Bit harsh on her, huh?” you ask, almost not thinking about it as you say it. Applejack’s expression doesn’t lighten at all in response.

 

Travers looks at you with confusion in his face, “Harsh? It’s a horse, Anonymous. You ain’t ever had one before? Sometimes you gotta be a rough n’ tumble so they know who’s boss. An uppity horse’s killed too many a farmer, I tell you what,” he finishes with a heroic tone in his voice. Applejack doesn’t dare look at either of you, she meekly brings the axe back up and swings at the tree again, the sound nothing like what she was doing before.

 

“Oh, don’t be shy, horsie, I heard you doin’ better than that before I came out here!” he says, Applejack’s demeanor crumbling with every word. She drops the axe from her mouth again, lowering her head to the ground, muzzle almost kissing the grass. You can hardly hear what she says, but it sounds a lot like “yes sir”. Your stomach’s a knot at this point, watching the pony having been turned into subservient livestock for the man. Without thinking, you blurt out a sentence that has Applejack staring at you in terror and Travers looking at you with shock.

 

“How much would you want for her, Travers?” you say, not a hint of an expression on your face.

 

“H-”

 

Travers can’t even repeat what you said for a moment, having to swallow the heavy breath that fills his mouth before speaking, “How much?! I told you I done paid an arm and a leg for these two, ‘yer askin’ me how much?”

 

“She looks like a good worker. I have some property myself..” you start, trying to think of something that sounds convincing.

 

“Bunch of useless woods, pretty much. But I like what I see here. I mean, do I look like I can cut down trees?” you ask, turning to him and pulling up one of your sleeves to show the glory of your definitionless arm.

 

Travers pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. Applejack hasn’t moved for about thirty seconds. Now’s not the time to wait for a response.

 

“How much did you buy them for?”

 

“You know what, let me see the other one before we start throwing numbers around,” you add, trying to sound as confident as possible.

 

Travers looks you up and down without speaking, sparing a glance to Applejack before looking at you again.

 

“Think you c’n afford it?”

 

“Where’s the other horse?”

 

A couple of minutes later, you’re staring at a hefty red stallion pony that looks like it wants to die. The fur on his fetlocks is fluffier than what you’ve seen on any other one of these ponies but they’re somewhat matted with dirt. He stares at you, leaving the fencepost he was sticking in the ground to lean over in its hole.

 

“Git that post upright!”

 

The pony doesn’t even take the time to say anything in the affirmative before it snaps its jaw back to the fencepost, continuing to set it in place.

 

“You want ‘em?” Travers asks, but when you open your mouth to respond, he continues, “I paid thirty five large for the two of ‘em together. Still want ‘em?”

 

“How much will it take?”

 

He looks at you in disbelief, wondering why anyone would want to buy these off of him, but he doesn’t want to let this opportunity slip.

 

“Fifty.”

 

You look at Big Mac, who froze in place a few seconds ago after hearing that you were trying to buy him.

 

“I’ll-

 

“Dad! The car’s all done!” yells a kind of squeaky, awkward voice from across the property. You look to see Travers’s lanky son jogging over from the garage, some smudges on his hands from the tires.

 

“You lookin’ at the horse? My kid brother’s obsessed wit ‘em. He wanted to pet ‘em, but dad said to wait ‘till they’re trained. You know how horses’re,” he says, well versed in the southern art of small talk just like his father.

 

Travers pulls out his wallet and hands his son a twenty dollar bill, in response to which he smirks and puts it in his pocket, jogging back to the house.

 

“Thanks!” he yells behind him, without even waiting for thanks from you for changing your tire.

 

“Son, it looked to me like you wanted to say yes to my price,” Travers says after his son is far enough away. Maybe he didn’t want the younger one to know the ponies were going, just yet.

 

You give a nod in response, trying to look serious. Travers turns away and starts walking in the other direction, before snapping his head back at Big Mac and hissing “Back to it!” at him, which is met with a flinch and compliance.

 

“Gimme a week, Anonymous. I want that fence built, and that thicket cleared, but I don’t fancy doin’ it myself, and my oldest’s not quite a muscle man,” he said, walking over to the garage. You opt to follow him.

 

“A week? And you’ll sell them for fifty thousand?”

 

“‘Swhat I said, ain’t it?”

 

You don’t feel as happy as you thought you would have. The plan was a success, you literally stumbled right into the answer by some God’s grace, but for some reason it doesn’t feel as satisfying as you think it should. The money’s not the problem, is it? You still had nearly all of the money you’d won, and fifty thousand is only about a fourth of it. You didn’t have plans for the money, so some smart investments (gotta learn how to do that) could make the rest last quite a while.

 

“Let’s shake on it,” you said after making it back to your car, extending a hand. If Travers has any sort of “southern pride” then this should be enough for him to keep his word.

 

He takes your hand firmly and shakes, “Now, I don’t know why a guy with fifty to spend’s drivin’ a car like this, but I’m not gonna call you a liar. You know where to find me in a week. I’ll be here.”

 

You open your car door and are about to step in, when the thought hits you that you should add an addendum to your deal.

 

“Can you be a bit nicer to them? Until then?” you ask, trying to sound like you know you’re asking for a favor.

 

“Son, they’re still horses. And until seven days pass, they’re my horses. I’ll do what I have to do.”

 

It’s almost enough to elicit a shiver, the way he says that last part, but you give him a nod and get in your car, not wanting to push things any further. Fifty thousand for Apple Bloom’s siblings. No sign of her cousin, but neither of you had expected that. Your low tire pressure light is off when you turn the car on. That’s a good sign. It’s also good that Travers trusted you about having the money, since that could be a little hard to believe. The grass is a little odd to drive on but you just about manage, following the tread marks from when Travers first entered, driving out of the gate. You hear it grind shut behind you as you leave and your palm slaps across your forehead while the drive gets bumpy on the gravel driveway.

 

“I didn’t say a thing to either of them about Apple Bloom!” you say to nobody as you realize what you did. Or rather, what you didn’t do. If all they knew was that some human wanted to buy them, then what would they think? What would they do over the next week? They’d probably assume the worst, given their current circumstances. They had to know that you have their sister.. That sounded a bit worse than it should.

 

The car slides a couple feet in the gravel when you hit the brakes. Your braking was probably a bit too sudden. After stepping out and walking around to the passenger side of your car, you can actually see Big Mac through the metal bars. He’s carrying a box of tools in his mouth back to where he was building the fence. You wave your arms up and down with a frenzied look on your face, catching his attention from his peripheral and making him flinch. Thankfully, he doesn’t look away, although he looks quite scared.

 

Now.. How do you communicate this? Travers is very close, so you don’t want to alert him by saying anything. Walking over to the fence and letting him see you is a no go, too. Raising his suspicions before you could buy his ponies is not a good idea. You probably only have a minute or so to sit in his driveway before he happens to look. Your luck was too good lately for that not to be the case. While Big Mac’s concerned gaze is still on you, you attempt charades.

 

First, you point at him. He flinches when you do this. Next, you lower your hand near to the ground with your palm flat, stopping at about Apple Bloom’s height. Then you realize that he might be able to just read your lips, given he speaks the same language as you and has been.. Familiarized with humans.

 

“Apple Bloom,” you mouth with as much exaggeration as you can muster without unhinging your jaw. Surprisingly, one attempt is all it takes, and Big Mac’s jaw literally drops, causing the toolbox in his grip to fall to the floor and spill everywhere. His head spins around to where Travers is, and it’s not long before he yells.

 

“Just what th’ hell’re you droppin’ that for? You pick all that up, and don’t leave a nail or a bolt in my grass!” you hear from somewhere just out of sight.

 

Big Mac instantly lowers his muzzle to the grass, picking up each tool with his mouth, dropping them into the toolbox. His gaze flicks up to you while he does this, and all you can think to do is give him a thumbs up while mouthing “Apple Bloom” again. From this distance, it’s hard to tell, but it almost looks like he’s tearing up. You hear footsteps, though, and turn around, kneeling down over the tire that was replaced as though you were inspecting it. Yes, this tire is really very interesting. It seems to be black, made out of rubber, and affixed onto the axle of my car by someone who knew what they were doing. You hope that you look natural as you pretend to inspect the tire, eventually getting smacked to attention by Travers’s voice behind you.

 

“She all right?” he yells from the other side of the metal fencing.

 

“Y-yeah, just double checking! Looks like good work to me! Thanks again, Travers, really!” you call over your shoulder.

 

“I’ll see you in a week!”

 

He doesn’t respond, but upon glancing over your shoulder you can see that he’s throwing you a wave as he walks back to his house. After an exhale, you walk back around to the driver’s side and sit down, taking the car out of park and continuing down the driveway. Soon enough you’re home. The drive felt quicker than it was, and you weren’t even driving all that fast.

 

You unlock and open your door, entering without saying anything. Glancing around, you see no sign of Apple Bloom, but that’s to be expected. She was watching a movie on your computer when you left, and probably still is now. Making your way down the hall, to your room, you do indeed hear some cartoon characters speaking, but Apple Bloom is asleep in your chair, the lights from the monitor flashing over her face while her hind legs twitch. She’s probably dreaming about the movie she just watched. Walking up to your desk, you close out of Netflix and turn off the monitor. Apple Bloom doesn’t wake up, and when you look down at her you reflexively smile. Of course you do. When she wakes up, you’re gonna tell her that you’ll have her siblings in a week’s time!

 

“Have,” huh? What’re you gonna do with them when you get them? “Get”.. Every time you refer to these ponies it’s like you’re talking about property. Go figure, they’re about to be the most expensive purchase of your life, but.. It feels weird. After spending some time looking after Apple Bloom, you’re all too familiar with what these ponies are. They’re basically just humans if they were horses.. But you can’t exactly just set them free, can you? If they go out into society, they’ll just be enslaved again, and in the wild? They’re not wild animals, so they’d likely not fare very well.

 

What you had said to Travers about your property wasn’t a lie. The small home you were given in a will is situated on four acres of woods, and you’ve never even set foot past the tree line. It may as well have belonged to someone else. Could they potentially live here? When they lived in “Ponyville” before, who built their houses? Could they possibly build one out of the trees on your property? Homes were only getting more expensive. Unless you invested for some time the most you could muster up with what’ll be left of your money would pretty much be a shack with minimal utilities, given the costs for deforesting and making the land actually livable. Labor and materials aren’t cheap, and living half an hour or so from the city didn’t help your costs. While you were lost in thought, standing next to your chair, Apple Bloom stirred.

 

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