Chapter Text
~Tuesday~
It wasn’t the way the smug September sun reflected off of work-tousled golden tresses that made her ease the brake pedal to the floor for the first time in what felt like hours. It wasn’t the flex of forearms straining to keep enormous hay-bales braced against the broad, stoic shoulders that supported them. It wasn’t the striking figure cut against a bright, cloudless sky, and it was certainly (heaven forbid) not the sheen of honest, hard-earned sweat that glistened off said figure like a fine-cut diamond. She was lost, genuinely, and late, and exhausted, and this was the first person she had seen in miles of bucolic nothingness. So it wasn’t the possession of these… inviting features that led Rarity to finally slow her car to a stop beside the woman loading up a battered red truck just off the side of the road. But, well, it wasn’t not that, either.
“Excuse me, darling!” A brief wave caught the attention of the stranger, who carefully set the next bale into the bed of her pickup before dusting off her hands and wandering over with a charming smile.
“Howdy there, miss! What can I do for ya?”
“I’m terribly sorry to pull you away from your work, but I’m afraid I’m quite lost. Would you be able to help me?” The fluttering eyelashes and coy smile weren’t even intentional, they just came naturally to Rarity after so many years of using them.
“Naw, ‘tain’t no thing,” the woman shook her head, smile unwavering. “Always happy to help out a damsel in distress such as yerself. Whereabouts are ya headed?”
“Well, aren’t you a gentleman. A regular knight in shining armor.” Rarity giggled. “As for my destination, I believe I am looking for a farm.”
“Er… I’d say ya came to the right place, ma’am. Ain’t much else ‘round here but farm.”
“Yes, I’d noticed,” Rarity responded dryly. “It’s absolutely dreadful. Mile after mile of the least inspired architecture, not to mention all of this dust when I only just washed Tom yesterday.” She patted her gleaming turquoise Bel Air sympathetically.
“Right. So does this farm of yours have a name?” The stranger sounded slightly less agreeable, but Rarity hardly noticed, already gearing up into a rant that had clearly been delivered several times to audiences of varying levels of enthusiasm.
“And to think, after everything I’m doing for them, they don’t even have the decency to meet me in a civilized location. No, I simply have to drag myself into the middle of nowhere, with no proper signage or infrastructure or any kind of relevance whatsoever. The closest town is over an hour away, and who knows if these heathens even have indoor plumbing yet! But they begged me to save their precious farm, so here I am, forty-five minutes late, completely lost, and already sweating through my third hair scarf of the day. If you ask me, I’m not sure this ‘Sweet Apple Acres’ is even worth saving.”
That made the tall woman stand up straight, face losing all traces of geniality.
“Ya say yer lookin’ for Sweet Apple Acres?” she asked gruffly.
“Yes, and I can tell by your tone that you’re familiar with their distasteful manner of operations. But alas, bleeding heart that I am, I fear I must at least keep my appointment with them, if only to tell those brutes exactly what I think of their precious farm.” Rarity was aware that several of her peers considered her to be ‘overdramatic’, but honestly, who blame her? It was far too hot for this time of year, and she was frustrated, and a little bit of hyperbole never hurt anyone. In fact, laying it on thick seemed to endear her to the woman in front of her, if the reappearance of her toothy grin was anything to go by.
“I can give ya directions there, no problem. Yer gonna wanna follow this here road for another twenty miles then go ahead and take a right, and then another right again a mile later. Drive straight on ’til ya hit the ol’ water mill. Turn right there, and then yer gonna need to keep an eye out ‘cuz there’s another right turn comin’ up quick by the big tree—you’ll know it when ya see it, biggest tree ya ever seen in yer darn life. Then keep on for another five miles or so and that oughta do it.”
“Twenty miles? The scaling on this map must be atrocious. But never mind that. Thank you ever so much, darling. You’re a life saver.”
“Sure thing. Just be careful out there, ya hear? Them folks over at Sweet Apple are somethin’ else. Real rough types. Ya get any trouble from them, just come right on back here, I’ll be sure to set ‘em straight.”
“My hero,” Rarity gushed. The batted eyelashes were intentional this time. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough, going out of your way to help me out like this!” She threw in a wink and a blown kiss, just because. Maybe this day wasn’t so horrible after all. As she drove away, she could hear her savior calling out after her.
“No problem, sugarcube!”
…
An hour and a half later, Rarity’s convertible once again rolled to a stop next to a very familiar fence, where a very familiar figure was tying the last of some very familiar hay-bales down on a very familiar truck bed. She cleared her throat aggressively, but the other woman gave no indication of having heard. She tried a second time. The woman glanced at her and raised an eyebrow, then turned back to securing the bales.
“EXCUSE ME, DARLING.”
Slowly, casually, the woman finished up her work and turned to face Rarity fully. This time, her facial expression was less of a charming smile and more of a self-satisfied smirk.
“Howdy there, miss! What can I do for ya?”
Rarity wanted to scream.
“As you can see, it appears your directions did not lead to Sweet Apple Acres, but rather in a complete circle, leaving me right back where I started.”
“Is that what happens when ya turn right four times in a row? I hadn’t noticed.”
“I cannot possibly fathom why you would feel the need to take that kind of tone with me when I’m not the one who just played a cruel prank on a completely innocent stranger.”
“Sorry, lady. Got no idea what yer talkin’ about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I got some chores to finish, if’n you don’t mind.” The woman gave a sarcastic bow and headed back towards her vehicle. Rarity saw red.
“As a matter of fact, I do mind! I mean honestly! My time is extremely valuable. Who do you think you are, sending me on a… a wild goose chase like that?”
“Name’s Applejack, ma’am.” The driver’s side door banged shut as Applejack climbed into the truck, revealing a faded logo emblazoned on the side. “Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres.”
~~~~
Applejack didn’t wait for the ridiculous woman to follow the ancient pickup down the dirt road to the farmhouse proper. She had a brother to strangle.
“MACINTOSH!” Her voice echoed through the old house, which shook on its foundations as she slammed the door behind her. The large man already sitting at the kitchen table cringed, trying to make himself as small as possible.
“eeyup?”
“Care to explain why the hell there’s some frou-frou princess out front talkin’ some nonsense about a meetin’ to ‘save our farm’?”
“Miss Belle’s here?” Big Mac sat up and squinted out the window at the cloud of dust slowly making its way up the driveway. “Phew! Thought I got the day wrong or something.”
“Are ya tellin’ me yer actually expecting that uppity city-slicker?”
“Eeyup. Miss Belle’s a lawyer. Asked her to help us out some.”
“Well we don’t need no help!” Applejack threw her hat on the table in emphasis. “And ‘specially not from the likes of her!”
“The likes of who, exactly?”
The so-called ‘Miss Belle’ was now standing in the open doorway with her arms crossed and a thoroughly unimpressed look on her face. She looked laughably out of place in the rustic kitchen with spotless heels, jewelry that seemed to practically drip off of her, and silky, shiny hair covered by an even silkier, shinier scarf.
“The likes of somebody stickin’ her overly-powdered nose where it don’t belong, that’s who!”
“Well, I never— the disrespect— I ought to turn around right now!”
“Why don’t ya, then? I’d certainly be glad to see the back of ya!”
“EEENOUGH.” Big Mac didn’t raise his voice often, but when he did, people tended to listen. “Jackie, mind yer manners. Miss Belle, I apologize for my sister’s outburst. It’s been a… stressful time for us all. She’s been takin’ it particularly hard.”
Applejack grumbled in dissent, but sat down like a scolded child. The woman in the doorway huffed.
“I assume you’re the Macintosh Apple I had the pleasure of speaking with over the phone?”
“Eeyup.”
“Well, I can’t say I approve of your sister’s behavior thus far, but I appreciate your apology on her behalf. Please, go on.” She nodded for Big Mac to continue.
“Despite what AJ says, we do need yer help. Ya see, this farm has been in our family for generations. Long as most people can remember, Sweet Apple Acres has been our home. But a few weeks ago we got this in the mail.” He reached for an envelope on the kitchen table and pulled out a nasty looking multipage document that had clearly been read over multiple times, if the crumpled edges and portions of smudged text were anything to go by.
“Apparently, a couple o’ brothers just moved to town sayin’ that Sweet Apple Acres actually belonged to their great-great-great grandpa, who was only lendin’ it to our folk until his people wanted it back. Say they’ve got proof, some sort of contract or somethin’. ‘Course, it ain’t true, not a lick of it, but it sure does look real. When we said as much to ‘em, they told us we had a ten days to up and move out completely, or they’d get a judge involved. Next thing we knew, they’d gone and set up a court date for a trial we still don’t even really understand.
“We can’t afford to pay much, but I was hopin’ you might be able to give everythin’ a once-over and maybe see if there’s some sorta way we can prove to the court that these Flimflam brothers are just makin’ up lies. Even just a few minutes of yer time would help, my sister and I don’t exactly got minds for… legal work.”
“I’ll show you what I’ve got a mind for…” Applejack muttered, but she had enough sense to do so under her breath.
“Please, Miss Belle. This place is our home. It’s all we got left. Do ya think we’ve got a chance?”
“Well, if these men really are forging documents to steal your farm, that is certainly a deep miscarriage of justice. And I do appreciate a challenge,” the ostentatious woman replied. “I think, barring any more… boorish behavior on your delightful sister’s part, I would be amenable to reviewing your case at the very least.”
Applejack shot her a smile that was all teeth.
“Gee, thanks ever so much for yer kindness, Miss Belle.”
“I’m going to choose to ignore your sarcasm there in the spirit of goodwill. And please, call me Rarity.”
…
It was late in the evening when Applejack finished up her work for the day, returning to the house just in time to see the lawyer fold up her cat-eye glasses and place them gently back into her sleek briefcase. Big Mac was nowhere to be seen, so it seemed like it was up to her to wrap things up with ‘Miss Belle’. It still irked her to see the imperious woman perched at the kitchen table like she owned the place, but if this Flimflam business was a real threat, she knew she and her siblings were in way over their heads. They’d need somebody who knew their way around a courtroom if they had any chance of keeping the farm, so she just had to suck it up and be the bigger person.
“I see you treat your house with the same care as your pigsty, then?”
So much for being the bigger person.
“Goddamn, can’t even walk into my own home now without some snotty stranger throwin’ barbed comments my way? What the hell are ya goin’ on about now?”
Rarity pointed a delicate, manicured figure at the muddy footprints that had followed AJ in from outside.
“Your boots are positively filthy, darling, and you’ve gone and tracked mud ALL over the floor.”
Applejack took off her hat and squeezed out the excess water before shoving it angrily back on her head.
“Well I dunno if ya noticed, but it’s rainin’ outside, and mud is what happens when ya mix water and dirt. But I guess a fancy lawyer like ‘Rarity Belle’ ain’t ever had to actually get her hands dirty a day in her prissy little life.”
“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I work plenty— wait. You said it’s raining?”
Rarity’s statement was punctuated by a booming thunderclap, startling her nearly out of her chair. Applejack laughed in disbelief.
“Yeah, has been for the past hour or so. Welcome back to reality, sugarcube.”
“Oh, this is a travesty! It’s the worst possible thing! Poor Tom must be absolutely drenched right now!”
“Uhh… who’s Tom?”
“My convertible, you OAF! The water damage to the seats alone… it’s too horrible to even think about. I feel faint.”
“Wait, yer car?” Applejack shook her head incredulously as she kicked off her boots and went to grab the mop. Who named a car Tom? “Calm down, princess. Big Mac had me throw a tarp over it when he smelled the rain comin’ in. Thing’s dry as a bone, scout’s honor.”
“Ah. I- I see…” Rarity didn’t seem to know quite what to do with herself now that there was no need for her dramatic display, frenzied hands falling uselessly to her sides. “Well… please tell your brother that I am most grateful, and he has been a wonderful host.”
“I ain’t yer messenger, ya can tell him yerself next time ya see him.”
“Hmmph!” At this, Rarity turned away pointedly, making a show of packing up her things. An awkward silence descended over the kitchen, the quiet sticking to AJ’s skin like thick molasses until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“So… uh… what’s the situation with the farm ownership lookin’ like?” Her voice was quiet, hard to hear over the rain now thrashing the window panes. There was a note in the words that could have been desperation, if Applejack was prone to such things. It seemed to soften Rarity’s pinched features, at least a little.
“It is… not ideal,” the lawyer offered hesitantly. “On first glance, it does seem as though these Flimflam brothers have gone through all the proper channels, though there are a few specifics I’d need to look into to be sure.”
“Right.” Applejack sat down heavily, the well-worn chair catching and cradling her like it always had. Like she had assumed it always would.
“Of course, things would be much less complicated if you all could simply provide me with the actual deed to this place, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised your farm doesn’t keep adequate documentation, considering how impossible it is to even find the place.”
The farmer rolled her eyes. Even with the sensitive topic at hand, it seemed Rarity couldn’t resist throwing in one more little dig. AJ knew there were more important things she should be explaining to the person on whom her family’s future potentially rode, but if there was one sure thing about her, it was that she always gave as good as she got.
“We don’t need signs, ‘cuz all the people who we actually want comin’ round our place already know full well where it is!”
“And what kind of business practice is that? No wonder you can’t afford my services. Frankly, for all I know, the Flimflams’ contract is completely legitimate. Perhaps your family was only borrowing this land to begin with, and you and your brother are the ones lying to me!”
Applejack’s chair gave a cautionary screech as it scraped backwards across the kitchen floor, making room for her to stand stiffly at her full height.
“Now that’s a step too far,” she asserted, face dangerously calm. “I don’t care if ya call me filthy, or rude, or ya don’t like hangin’ around rural parts like these for one reason or another, but don’t ever, ever accuse me of tellin’ fibs. The Apple family don’t say nothin’ but the honest truth. I swear it on the first tree we ever planted here. This is our farm. And we’ll do everythin’ we can to keep it.”
Unlike the smothering silence earlier, the quiet that now filled the kitchen was a fragile thing, ready to crack and shatter at the first wrong move. Breathing deep to slow the racing of her adrenaline-fueled heart, Applejack forced the anger down, reminding herself how high the stakes were. She’d been treating this like a game, when in reality it was anything but. Another long inhale. A longer exhale. She sat back down again.
“Rarity, I apologize. I let my temper get the best of me, and I was outta line. My brother’s right. We don’t know the first thing about how to fight this. If there’s even a chance ya think we can win, if I haven’t gone and ruined everythin’ already… would ya help us out? Please?”
Thankfully, any prolonged moment of vulnerability was disrupted by another earth-shaking boom from the storm outside. Rarity blinked, once, twice, and appeared to recalibrate. A faint blush crawled across her sheepish face.
“Yes, well, I certainly could have comported myself better this afternoon… and in the interval since… and I understand how important this matter is to you and your kin. And there are definitely a few threads I’d like to pursue regarding this contract. I accept your apology, Ms. Applejack, and I will gladly return tomorrow morning to go over possible next steps with you and your brother should you so desire.”
It wasn’t quite an effusive apology, but AJ decided she’d take what she could get. She reached out to shake Rarity’s hand, only for the other woman to flinch away when yet another thunderclap rattled the cupboards.
“Er… on second thought, I don’t suppose you all have a bed to spare in this lovely house? I hate to impose, but I’m not sure I can stomach the thought of driving all the way back to the city in this downpour.”
“Ya know what, why the hell not?” Applejack shrugged lightly. “Tell ya what, ya can stay in my room.”
“Y-your room?” Rarity’s flush deepened, spreading down to her neck. “I’ll have you know, you may think my general expectations a bit extravagant, but I would hope there is a base level of decorum— that is to say, it would be highly inappropriate— in such close quarters—”
“Relax, Miss Belle,” the farmer chuckled. “I meant my old room. I ain’t usin’ it.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. I- I suppose you must have realized you’re far more comfortable sleeping in the barn with the rest of the animals, hm?” The jab was a little hesitant this time—friendlier, almost hopeful—and it earned an amused huff from Applejack, before her eyes took on an unfocused sheen. She shook her head slowly.
“Heh… not exactly. I, uh, moved into first floor bedroom with Granny when she got sick, so I could take care of her, and then when she… well, I guess I just never bothered to move back up again.”
“Oh, Applejack,” Rarity inhaled quietly. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have—”
“S’alright. Ya couldn’t have known, and it’s an old ache, anyway.” The storm continued to make itself known outside with reckless abandon, but the atmosphere in the kitchen started to settle. “It’s gettin’ late, we should probably hit the hay. My old night clothes ain’t exactly fashion forward, but I reckon they should just about fit ya, and I’ll grab a fresh set of linens for ya from the closet. Make yerself at home, and lemme know if ya need anything’. Gonna need ya at the top of yer game tomorrow.”
“A lady does need her beauty sleep. I’ll need to borrow your phone to inform my sister of my whereabouts for the evening, if you don’t mind, but I agree it's best we turn in for tonight.”
The two smiled cautiously at each other for the first time since their original encounter, this time feeling much more genuine. A peace agreement of sorts had been reached. It was a bit tenuous, but Applejack thought it was probably strong enough to handle the teasing wink she sent Rarity’s way.
“Much as it pains me to admit it, you’re our best hope. The fate of Sweet Apple Acres rests on yer oh-so-dainty shoulders.”
“Yes, I suppose even dusty, backwater dumps like this one are still deserving of fair legal representation. As such, I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Ta-ta, darling!” Fingers curled in a gentle wave, the elegant woman drifted off towards the staircase. AJ watched her go with an expression that was likely very difficult to read, considering it had no idea what it was that it wanted to say.
“Sweet dreams, sugarcube.”