CHAPTER 1

Welcome to volume two of One Pony's Tale. If you are just now getting into Drake's story, you may wish to go back and read volume one before starting this arc of his life. If you don't, that's fine. Though the dozen or so novels and just as many short stories about my OC follow his life in chronological order, I intended them to be able to be read as stand-alone fics for the most part. As I mentioned last time, this story will prove to be more interesting and exciting than Drake's early life in Canterlot. I humbly ask you the reader to send me at least a few reviews. Though I have been a brony for a year now, this is my first foray into writing MLP fanfics that other people actually read. I would like some input as to whether or not I am doing a decent job and should continue, or just bag the whole idea and move on. So, without further ado, I now submit for your approval chapter one of volume two. Enjoy. I don't own My Little Pony.

The sun was setting on the horizon, the sky becoming its sunset shades of red and orange as the eastern sky darkened. A lone train raced toward the sun, chasing the yellow disc toward its resting place in the west as if to run it down and prevent the inevitability of darkness closing in on the deserted landscape. Aboard the train, the passengers chatted, ate dinner, or reclined in their seats, relaxing a bit. All but one, at least. And of course, that one passenger was me.

I sat in a seat halfway back in the last car, my saddlebags and sabre belt in the space next to me, preventing any curious ponies from sitting next to me and trying to strike up a conversation I didn't want to have. I didn't really feel like having any conversations. All they saw was a random, nameless cavalry officer, sitting alone, silently watching the miles of scenery roll by. That's all they needed to see. That's really who I was, and all that I was at the moment. The sunlight faded into a dim dusky moment, perfect for turning my window into an ad hoc mirror. My focus shifted from the prairie outside to my own image. My dark brown eyes stared only at each other for a minute, asking themselves exactly nothing. Nopony can ever understand the strange feeling of being truly alone, the unburdened, free sensation of having nothing but what you're carrying at the time, nopony but yourself, no past, no home, no family or friends. It's the lightest feeling somepony can feel, and the heaviest.

I was on my way to my duty assignment. According to the copy of my orders carried in my left saddlebag, I was to be acting second lieutenant of G troop, a company of the 12th Equestrian Cavalry. Currently, G troop garrisoned a fort I had never heard of in a spot of barren frontier I had never seen, and I was to be acting essentially as second in command of a unit of troopers I had never met, under a lieutenant I had never met. This in itself didn't bother me like you think it would. Orders were orders, and I was a soldier. I would meet my C.O., and I would meet my company. I would learn my duties and carry them out until I was transferred somewhere else, retired, or was killed in battle, whichever end came first.

The train ride I was on was only the first part of my journey. The train would take me as far as Dodge Junction, a frontier town that from what I had gleaned wasn't the best place to settle down and raise a family. After getting a night of rest there, I would have to travel the last day of my trek on hoof, across unforgiving badlands teeming with rattlesnakes, scorpions, and hostile native inhabitants, the buffalo. This didn't bother me as much as you would think either. I felt confident that I could survive for quite some time in the wilderness if necessary. When it came to a confrontation, I could talk my way out of nearly any problem, and if needed, my sabre could do the talking. And if both of those contingencies failed, I would have the shortest command in history, and some big cavalry officer could come eulogize me and say that I didn't die in the line of duty, but I died on my way to my duty.

My gaze refocused to the night outside the train. I let my head rest against the cool glass, pushing my black wide brimmed hat back on my head. I closed my eyes for a few moments, and thought back on the last few months, where I had come from to get here. My eyes opened again, and I let out a sigh. At least it was night. The night is good. It hides us from others. It hides us from ourselves.

"Um...you alright sir?" A female voice asked. I slowly looked over to see a peach-colored mare with blue curly hair looking at me with concern.

"I'm sorry...what?" I asked, my voice coming out more gruff than I'd intended. I cleared my throat, not having said a single word in several hours.

"No...just...you looked like, sick or depressed or...something..." She said. "I thought I should check on you."

"Oh...well, I'm fine, thank you." I said stoically. She looked a little hurt by my curtness. I felt a little bad, but once again, I didn't feel like having a conversation. There was nothing to have a conversation about. Move along, Civilian. Nothing to see here.

"Oh...that's good then..." She replied. "Are you a soldier?"

"Nope, I'm a circus performer." I stated. She just looked at me a moment. I gazed back out the window.

"Um...well, I'm glad that you're okay sir." She said meekly. "I hope you have a nice trip...wherever you're going...bye."

"Mm." I answered. I leaned back in my seat, and closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift off to sleep for a few minutes.

"Sir? Sir?!" A voice called, rousing me from my sleep. I looked to see the conductor standing by my seat. "We are arriving at Dodge Junction, sir."

"Thank you." I replied. He walked away as I stood, strapped on my sabre belt, threw on my saddle bags and adjusted my hat to a more presentable position. The train was slowing, and through the windows, I could begin to make out a few lights, no doubt lanterns and candles in the windows of buildings, and maybe a few street lights. The train shuddered slightly as the engineer applied the brakes as we neared the station. A few of the passengers were already standing and moving toward the door at the front of the car. I myself waited until the train had stopped, and the passengers had piled out, taking my place at the end of the line. I soon stepped off out of the car onto the platform at Dodge Junction and looked around.

The city, if you wanted to call it that, was a town consisting of wooden buildings in the style that you can only find in frontier towns. Each building had a wide, wooden porch facing the dirt streets, forming a wooden sidewalk of sorts that obviously helped when it rained and the dirt thoroughfare turned into a bog. Being night, there weren't many ponies wandering the town, at least near the station. At this late hour, in a town like this, all the ponies still awake would probably be assing around the Red Light District, or off in an alleyway somewhere plotting things that only go on at night. One glance at Dodge Junction, and I was sure I could get a glass of cheap whiskey, lose some bits at a hand of poker, employ Equestria's worst prostitute, and take in a rooster fight without having to walk very much. Enough critiquing the town. I had to get a hotel room and go to sleep.

I walked down what I assumed was main street, in search of a hotel. I passed a couple of saloons, and was tempted to walk in and order a drink, but decided that it would be better to do so in the morning, before I left town. Besides, the sounds, smells and coarse language coming out of the drinking establishments was enough to keep all but the most diehard drinkers and gamblers out. As one rough-looking stallion was propelled violently through a door into the street by a punch, I just assumed he wasn't diehard enough. He landed in the dirt in front of me, and I paused, looking down on his battered, inebriated form, giving him an incredulous look. It was the first time I'd ever seen somepony forcefully ejected from a bar like that. He looked up at me through the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"Well hi-dey, shurrrrf." He slurred.

"Evenin' then..." I muttered, and walked on. Finally, I saw a three story wooden building, the large sign on the roof advertising its grand name as "Dodge Junction Hotel" I walked into the building, to find that it was obviously a saloon and gambling establishment on the first floor, and a hotel in the upper two. It probably served as a bordello as well, but I wasn't about to ask. Moving to the bar, I called to the stallion with the handlebar mustache pouring drinks.

"Sir!" I called over the noise of the drinking, shouting and piano music.

"What can I getcha?" He asked, walking over.

"Can I get a room?" I inquired.

"Sure thing. Single room or double, soldier?"

"What?" I asked. He motioned his head toward a balcony, where I saw a small group of mares, wearing provocative dresses, and obviously trying to entice the stallions below.

"Single room...or double?" The saloon keeper repeated.

"Single." I stated.

"Have it your way, fella." The stallion shrugged, then tossed me a brass key on a large ring. "Room 307. It's a good room, soldier. Just had it cleaned real good."

"Cleaned? Why?" I asked.

"If you knew, would ya sleep in it?" He returned. Fair enough, I guess. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, shot of whiskey." I said, tossing two bits onto the bar. I thought for a moment, then tossed another three bits up. "And a glass of whiskey." A loud noise erupted behind me, and I turned to see a table broken into pieces, with a stallion laying on top of it, bleeding. Cards and bits littered the floor, and two stallions stood by the injured gambler, yelling.

"You sumbitch! Nopony crawfishes a bet an' calls me a liar! I'll kill you, you sumbitch!"

"You wanna talk cheatin', you dirty, no good skunk!" The other one bellowed. Suddenly, a huge bowie knife stuck in the floor between the ponies, and the entire saloon went deathly quiet. All eyes turned to the door, where a large, rough-and-tumble stallion wearing an eyepatch and a black cowpony hat had just entered the bar. On the left side of his vest he wore a tin star, and on his face he wore a scowl.

"That's enough boys." He stated calmly but authoritatively. The two angry gamblers backed away slowly, their rage replaced by palpable fear. The lawpony walked over and pulled the knife from the floorboards. He inspected his weapon, seemingly forgetting about the chaos he'd just quelled a few seconds before. He slid the knife back into a sheath on his belt. "Now I tell ya what I'm gonna do, boys..." He said in a drawl. "I'm gonna walk back out of here. I'm gonna go down the street and have a drink. And if I have to come back in here one more time tonight...every last pony in this here saloon's gonna pay for it. Now that's how it's gonna be."

"Yessir." One of the gamblers said. "Sorry 'bout that, Marshal Cocktail...we'll keep it down."

"Well good." The lawpony replied. He turned and started to leave. That is before the other gambler decided to become an idiot.

"Well, I ain't scared of no one-eyed fat pony." He spat. The marshal turned, and had a look of shock on his face for just a fraction of a second. Then, all Tartarus broke loose.

"FILL YOUR HOOVES, YOU SONOFABITCH!" The marshal roared, charging at the pony. I threw four more bits onto the bar.

"The bottle." I said quickly. The bartender tossed me a bottle of whiskey, and I galloped up the stairs to my room, leaving the battle raging in the saloon below. I had four walls, a roof, a bed and a bottle of rot-gut, and that's all I wanted to get involved in at the time.

Well, that proved to be a bit of culture-shock for Drake, didn't it? He may just as well have ended up on Mars. And in case anypony out there didn't get the reference, the marshal's name was Rooster Cocktail, a play on Rooster Cogburn from True Grit. The next chapter will be more of Drake learning how much more different life on the frontier is from Canterlot, and he will set out for the fort. So keep watching, I'll try to have the next chapter up in the next 24 hours. Thanks for reading.