Desperadoes

The ground shook as the bison stamped his hoof.

“This land has belonged to our ancestors for generations!” His voice, filled with outrage, echoed off the canyon walls. “You have no right to take it!”

The target of his wrath, a senior Guardspony, remained stoic.

“Chief Thunderhooves, you were sent notice. By order of the Princesses you are to remain in the area we have designated for you to settle.” His confidence was bolstered by the scores of Guardsponies behind him, an impressive spectacle in their closed ranks.

“I cannot accept this,” the Chief snarled, “there is no possible way in which I will let you Equestrians take the traditional stomping grounds of our people.”

“Sorry Chief,” the Guardspony said with a smug look on his face, “but we're not backing down.” He turns to his right and nods to the Guardsman carrying a bugle, who lets out a short series of notes.

“Is the music supposed to impress me?” Chief Thunderhooves guffaws, and soon the rest of the tribe joins him, their mocking laughter amplified further by the echo. In fact, it was so loud that they missed a small whistling noise that steadily grew louder until it was accompanied by a strong gust of downward wind. The bison raised their heads to the sky just in time to see a squad of pegasus Guardsponies come screaming down from the sky. When the dust from their landing finally settled the bison could see they had landed in perfect formation and were instantly ready for trouble.

“You're totally surrounded,” the Guard commander taunted, his smug grin growing even wider. “Now I want your word that you'll stay on that reservation.”

The Chief looked back at his tribe and whilst he saw bravery and determination in the eyes of his braves, he knew he couldn't risk a confrontation now, not with the elderly and the children here.

“Only a coward would put the innocent at risk,” he said, locking eyes with the Guard commander.

“You're the one who's putting them at risk, you stupid bison,” the Guard cursed. “Now what's it going to be? Are you going to go back by yourselves, or do I have to make you?” He raised his right foreleg as a signal, and all of the Guards crouched , ready to charge, nostrils flared.

Had this been years ago, when he was younger and brasher, Chief Thunderhooves would've told his tribe to fight right then and there. He was even still tempted to bellow a wary cry and charge when Little Strongheart, daughter and advisor, nuzzled against him.

“We follow you Father,” she spoke solemnly. “You will lead us to the best pastures.”

Sighing with regret and unable to say anything to his daughter, but knowing what he had to do, he nodded to the Guard.

“Very well, I..”

Then there was a loud crack, followed by a small rock on the ground splintering between the Chief and the commander, causing both of them and others to recoil in surprise.

“NOBODY MOVE!”

Everyone looked up at the top of one of the canyon walls where two figures stood, silhouetted by the bright noon sun.

“Identify yourselves at once!” The commander barked, remarkably shaken by the appearance of these new arrivals.

“Names don't matter,” the first figure began before the second cut her off.

“What do yer mean names don't matter none? They sure as sugar do! Ahm Cinnamon Cider and this is Lydia Hope, and we're the Desperadoes and here to kick yer sorry kabooses!” The second figure began twirling some spinning some sort of tool around her finger whilst she tilted the brim of her hat in a parody of a greeting.

“Cider, no!” The first figure shushed her companion, much to the confusion of everyone else. “What she means to say, is that yes, we're the Desperadoes but we're not here to hurt everyone – just those who want to steal the bison's land.”

“Steal?” The commander spluttered in outrage. “It was never theirs to begin with! The people of Appleoosa City need more land to expand and the government will not stall progress just so some backwards bison can go for a gallop whenever they feel like it!”

“That ain't right and you know it,” Cider spat scornfully. “'sides, we ain't exactly got the highest opinion of what you government types think after what you did to our pas.”

Chief Thunderhooves chose to spoke – if these creatures were claiming to be his allies then he had best find out what he could before committing himself.

“Forgive me, “Desperadoes”, but what happened to your parents?”

“They were taken from us,” Hope snarled, training what were probably some sort of weapons on the Guard commander, “because they said things that the Princesses disagreed with.”

“Things about folks being less free and not being able to do what they wanted,” added Cider, pointing hers at the pegasi to the rear of the tribe, “and for that they done got locked up and we're wanted fugitives.”

A flash of recognition dawned upon the Guardspony.

“You...you're the satyrs! You're wanted by the Princesses themselves for high treason!”

“Glad ta see you've heard of us,” snorted Cider, “now let's deal with this here situation. Y'all are gonna take yer armour off, drop yer weapons and leave everything here, then go back to Appleoosa and tell everyone...mite sorry, everypony,” she dripped the last word with as much sarcasm as much she could muster, “that yer not to trouble the bison no more, y'hear?”

“Furthermore,” Hope added, “you tell them that whenever injustice rears its ugly head or evil rises unchallenged, the Desperadoes will be there to defend the weak and fight for good.”

“This is absurd,” scoffed the Guard, “what is this, a Daring Do novel? You're not heroes, just dangerous troublemakers on the run from the law, and why should I do anything you say?”

“Good question,” Hope agreed. “See that tree right there?” She gestured to a long-dead tree on the canyon floor, right next to the Guard commander. A loud crack followed after she pulled the trigger and a branch of the tree fell off, showering the nearest Guardsponies with splinters and making them whinny in surprise and terror.

“Because if you don't do what we say, I'll point this thing at you, pull the trigger and see what happens.”

“W..what is that thing?” The commander's face was drained of colour. “Some sort of magic?”

“Just good old fashioned human ingenuity,” Cider smirked, “now we ain't gonna ask twice – do it now!”

To their credit, the Guardsponies didn't break discipline and waited for orders from their commander. He contemplated fighting, given that on the surface he had superior numbers, but the enemy held the high ground, had superior weaponry and there was no way of telling if the bison would join in or not.

“Do as they,” he ordered coldly as he began to remove his armour. Soon the air rang with the clangs and clatters of metal armour and weapons falling to the ground. The bison parted, letting the pegasi walk to reunite with their commander, who looked significantly less impressive without his plumed helmet.

“Now git,” Cider waved with her pistols towards the end of the canyon. “It's a three-day trot to Appleoosa so best goin then!”

“This isn't over!” The commander shook his hoof in fury at the two satyrs before turning to the Chief.

“We'll be ready next time,” he threatened.

“And so will we,” Thunderhooves promised. “This land always has been, and always will be, bison land!”

“Bison land!” Little Strongheart took up the call and repeated it. “Bison land! Bison land!” Soon the rest of the tribe took up the chant and it thundered down the canyon, following the sad figures of the Guard as they slunk away in retreat.

It filled the Chief's heart to see the tribe so united and strong, but when he looked up to the top of the canyon he saw that the mysterious figures had disappeared.

“Father,” Little Strongheart saw what her father was looking for, “where did they go?”

“I am not sure,” the Chief confessed “but we have much to do now. The other tribes must be summoned, it seems that the Equestrians are determined to end our way of life forever.”

“But father,” his daughter pleaded, “what are we going to do about those creatures who helped us? How will we find them?”

“I am not sure, but I know this for sure,” the Chief smiled, “we will see the Desperadoes again.”

 

Hope came running down the stairs of the abandoned farm, not forgetting to jump over the broken steps near the end, and landed with more grace than her awkward body suggested that she was capable of.

“Guardsponies,” spat Cinnamon Cider, not shifting her gaze from the cracked glass at the front as Hope moved up next to her. From their position, crouched just bellow the window, it was unlikely that they had been spotted yet by the unit of Equestrian troops that had moved into view.

“They're coming right for us,” the red-haired satyr continued, lifting the brim of her hat to get a better view. “Must've been tipped off or summat.”

“Cider,” Hope sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder, “there's no shelter for miles around here apart from this old homestead. Where else could we go? It's a logical place to look.”

Cider glared at Hope. “Yer fancy logic ain't gonna help us one bit if we don't get outta here soon...wait, darn it! They got pegasi.”

“Guess they finally learnt,” Hope sighed, slumping to the floor in defeat. “They'll catch us fast.”

“Hey, don't you go quittin on me now!” Cider thumped Hope on the shoulder. “Ah only count twenty or so of 'em, we can take 'em.”

“One of us for every ten of them? Cider, I know math isn't your strong point, but those are long odds.”

“Mah always used to say, “Cider, lots of people have fancy words or big numbers to help them in life, but you've got something even better. You know what's right, you always have and always will. You stick to that and you'll do alright, y'hear?”, and ahm telling you that we can take 'em!”

The conviction in Cider's eyes was burning so bright that Hope couldn't help but grin.

“Okay Cider, what's the plan?”

“We let 'em make the first move, and then we take it from there.”

The Guardsponies had parked themselves out in front of the farmhouse and hadn't bothered to surround it on the ground. A quick peak from the back window revealed a couple of pegasi had taken to the air and were watching the back in case the satyrs bolted.

“Lydia Hope and Cinnamon Cider, throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up!” The call came from a gruff-looking stallion whom Hope recognised from their previous raid.

“Can I?” Cider pleaded.

“Sure,” Hope rolled her eyes, “I think it's your turn anyway.”

Cider inhaled deeply. “We'll throw out our hands and come out with our weapons up when you give us back our daddies!” Her yell made Hope wince, and not just from the volume. “How'd I do?”

Searching for something good to say and not wanting to ruin a beautifully enthusiatic expression, Hope placated her friend with “it'll sure as heck confuse them.”

Sure enough, they both could hear muffled confusion coming from behind the rocks where the Guards were taking cover.

Hope risked a peek through the window and saw at least one Guard attempting to peek around his boulder. He ducked back down, as did she.

“They'll make a move soon,” Hope continued. “How many you got?”

Cider checked her pouches. “Enough for now. You?”

“Same,” Hope confirmed.

“This is your last chance!” The Guard commander called out.

“Go to hell!” Hope snarled, drawing her weapons. Cider grinned and did the same.

“Prepare to face Equestria's finest!” The commander's voice rang loud with bluster and bravado. “Guards, CHARGE!”

The ground shook with the thunder of hooves as the Guards burst from cover and rushed towards the building, the sun glinting off their freshly polished armour.

Hope looked over at Cider.

“For Dad,” she nodded.

“For Pa,” Cider repeated the gesture.

As one, they cocked their pistols, and rose to face their enemies and enter into legend