The Young Sheriff

The steady sound of horse hooves and creaky wooden wheels turning over the dirty brick road never ended, to the ears of residence it was rhythmic, comforting and if it were to ever stop it would be unsettling. Even at the break of dawn, the bellowing sound of the train horn, metal against metal and a coal engine warming up to leave echoed from the station and just past that bells from the bustling docks could be heard with the faint sound of men shouting and crates moving. The brick and tar buildings were taller here, the roads well lit with the newest modern lights, decorated medians and a track for the trolleys that rolled through the city. Homes of the higher class had elegant gates and walls to separate them from the middle and lower class that lived nearby. The air smelled of coal burning, salt and fish from the nearby ocean, fresh lumber, yeast and manure. It was appalling to newcomers, but for the residents, it had become the smell of home and modern life. 

Darlington was known for its charm with its elegant architecture and success as much as it was known for its active nightlife and rising crime rate. A town of both farm and industry, poverty and first class, a growing staple of what the turning new age would look like with its advanced technologies. Better goods, better doctors, better liquor, better women, you name it and its residents would insist they had it better in Darlington. The town at this time of morning was covered in a golden light from the rising sun, colors of purple and orange lingering over the top of the shortest buildings and casting long shadows in the darker alleys between the taller.

Focused hazel eyes scanned the streets he grew up in as he rode, tipping his tan leather hat respectfully to whom he recognized but in a city like this, for every face he knew, there were three more he didn’t. Even with the youth still on his face, it was one to be acknowledged. The son of a banker and the overachieving police turned sheriff, he had his own reputation here with a strong moral compass and the stubbornness to uphold the law like that of an old farm mule. He worked hard to earn his badge and the residents of the city knew it well. 

He wore a dark teal vest with a bolo tie hanging from his neck, a tanned coat and well maintained leather boots that nearly looked as if they had never been walked on before. His badge shone brightly against his dark teal vest, his spurs clicked as his own steed’s hooves joined the sea of others. If the badge on the sharply dressed sheriff didn’t draw attention, his beast did. 

Under the short clean shaven man was a long and lean beast with a mane and tail curlier than any other breed and a tail like a whip wearing an intricate leather saddle. The sandy colored horse with white sabino markings, one eye as blue as the nearby sea and the other gold as the bells on the trains, was nicknamed appropriately for his size. Alphonse ‘Big Boy’ Caprice, one didn’t have to know his name to refer to him as ‘Big Boy’. The steed walked with pride as if it understood the whistles and compliments shot to the sheriff about how fine the beast was. 

The breed was far better suited as a show horse but the sheriff trusted this horse more than any other beast and wouldn’t be caught dead on another. This beast had been given to him as a colt and had been his responsibility to saddle break and had proven to be a lean and mean machine like no other. He rode the animal with pride of his own achievements, the same horse having been at his side and under him as he rose through his ranks as a lawman.

He rode up to one of the tallest buildings in the city, four stories of painted concrete with tall windows in white wooden frames, large square paned oak doors with ‘DARLINGTON POLICE DEPT’ painted over it.

Two lawmen outside with dark coats, vests, badges on their chests, guns on their hips, and whistles around their necks. One leaned on the case on the building where wanted posters were stapled as he ate from a can and the other stood with his arms crossed as he woke up with idle chit chat. Both older than the sheriff but each of them paid their respects to the young man with a nod and a tired ‘mornin Kippel’, one returned by the sheriff. 

“Atta boy.” The young man muttered as he dismounted, the horse’s withers standing just higher than his head and dwarfing the already small man. He gave his beast a pat on the neck as he hitched him, a shooed hoof scraped at the ground as he was given a huff in answer and mismatched eyes turning to look at him expectantly. 

“Spoiled rotten.” He chuckled as he pulled a sugar cube from his vest pocket and offered him his morning treat, the horse’s whiskers and muzzle tickling his hand as he claimed it with his soft lips. 

“Have you seen Jonesy yet?” He asked, dusting his hands together as he stepped onto the curb, his spurs clicking as he walked and a smile on his face.  

“Haven’t seen ‘im yet sir.” The officer said as stood up from the case, trying to seem more alert in the early hours of the morning for the sheriff. 

“If you see ‘im, remind the old kook he still owes me a coffee.” He told them, a playful smile replacing the pleasant smile on his face and a chuckle coming from his chest. 

The chuckle was returned by one of the officers and he was given nods. 

“Yessir.” 

The young lawman opened one of the oak doors and stepped in, his boots clicking differently as he walked across the tile floor.The lobby was quiet, the benches empty but the boards of wanted posters feeling more filled than ever. In a city like this, with so many passersby, it was rare a crime was committed by the same person and these criminals were getting harder and harder to catch. It felt like every time one outlaw gang was taken out, three more would show up in it’s place. Still, he was determined that he would catch as many as possible. 

He let himself into the back, where a desk stood in front of the sitting cells and a tired officer sat leaned back with his feet propped up, arms crossed and head down. He wore a dark coat and hat similar to the lawmen that had stood outside. 

“Slow morning George?” 

The officer jumped awake, his feet flying off the desk as he sat up and wiped the drool that had started to form. He was younger than the sheriff and rather new, overlooked by an older gentleman in the department that must have set him up as he did his rounds and waited for the boss to show up to catch him sleeping. From the laughter echoing in the back of the room, it was confirmed it was a cruel joke at play at the rookie’s expense.

“Mr. Kippel!” The man shouted, his voice echoing in the large room as he stood up. The chair under him fell back with a loud crack that made George jump despite having been the cause. 

“At least try to look like you’re awake now.” Kippel laughed at him. “Guys outside said they haven't seen Jonesy yet, I’m gonna assume you ain’t seen anyone.”

“N-No sir.” George sputtered as he picked up the chair from the ground to put back behind the desk. 

Kippel gave a nod and patted George’s shoulder as he passed him. “Try to stay awake. These criminals ain’t gonna watch themselves.” He gave his lighthearted scolding before he carried on. He walked past the cells, no serious criminals sitting in them, yet- some old bloke who’d gotten too drunk and rowdy sleeping off his hangover in one cell, another man looking out of sorts sitting on the bench in another as he waited with every clock tick until he were to be released for the petty crime of betting more than he owned. Any serious criminals they got here were either sent here temporarily, further in the jailhouse, the prison, or the gallows. 

He unlocked his office and stepped in, cracking the door behind him before he sat down at his desk. His office was kept clean aside from the constant papers that somehow doubled every day no matter how much he got done and the only personal item he kept in his office was a small framed photo of him and his brother, a man that looked much like him but with a 5 o'clock shadow that was taken only a few years back but had now felt like forever ago.

As soon as Kippel sat down, there was a knock on the door and he let out a small groan. Before he could fully stand back up though, a slim man with a wrinkled face and gray hair stepped in, wearing a smile and a similar Darlington badge on his chest that read deputy sheriff. He had a pale hat on his head and wore a tan coat with a pale teal vest under and a gray scarf, faded from his time being in the streets and under the sun. This man was who the sheriff had to thank for many things, his horse as well as his position.

“Henry Kippel.” He claimed with a faint irish accent turning southern and a wide smile, waving him to sit back down as he put a coffee down on the desk. 

“Well I’d be damned Jonesy, I was startin’ to think your mind was slippin’ with age.” He laughed as he sat back down and accepted the warm cup. 

“I figured ye wouldn’t let me live it down.” Jonesy chuckled as he leaned on the corner of the desk, but his eyes lowered to hide something deeper in his grayed green eyes. The man let out a soft sigh and shook his head. “Take a few sips of that ‘for I show ye this.”

Henry raised a skeptical eyebrow as he leaned back, taking a sip of the hot coffee without removing his eyes from the older man. He looked him up and down, noticing the rolled paper under his arm and then let out a grumble. Setting down the mug, he reached his hand out, flexing his fingers for him to give up the paper. 

“Yer not gonna like it.” Jonesy warned, his voice taking an unnerving solemness despite the man’s usual cheery demeanor as he looked from his brow at the younger man.

“Just give it up.” Kippel growled with annoyance, his youth showing for a moment with his quick agitation but Jonesy’s change of attitude rubbed him the wrong way with as quick as it had changed. It wasn’t in the man’s nature and it made Henry shift uncomfortably. 

Jonesy pulled it just out of reach for a moment, tipping his head down and expressing wrinkles one wouldn’t guess he had if it wasn’t for the unsavory angle and stern expression.

“Yer not gonna like it.” He repeated. 

 Henry returned the unpalatable look with one of dry irritation, quietly insisting on the paper being given to him, like a parent waiting for their child to fess up to something wrong they had done that had been brought to light despite their best attempts.

The older man let out a struggling sigh and shook his head, flicking the paper onto his desk so it faced the youthful sheriff. 

Henry leaned over, the paper immediately making his skin crawl and his stomach drop to his feet. A face too familiar but so long gone looking back at him with a sneer on his face, furrowed eyebrows, a thick beard and cold eyes. It was there in black and white;

‘BREAKING NEWS

THE ROOKERY BAY RIDERS AT LARGE’

The only other words Henry’s eyes came across as they scanned the page were ‘Robert Kippel’ and ‘near Darlington’.  

The young sheriff’s fingers lingered at his jaw and then ran up his face, knocking his hat off and to the ground as they raked stressfully through his short clean cut curly dark locks. His elbows met the desk and his palms met his eyes, rubbing them vigorously as if to wipe away what he had just read.

Jonesy stood up from the desk and earnestly picked Kippel’s hat up from the floor, dusting it off as he shifted uncomfortably and placed it on the edge of the desk. He hesitated before placing a weathered calloused hand on the sheriff’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“Why…? why why, why?” Henry groaned out, “He knows, he knows I’m the sheriff here. He has to. What business does he have this close to the city?” He threw his hands out, gesturing at the newspaper in frustration and shaking his flattened hand at it. The hand squeezed his shoulder to try to further comfort but was brushed off as Henry stood up to start pacing behind his desk. His blood felt as if it was running cold through his veins, the hairs on his arms and neck raising as he feared for the worst. 

“I don’t understand Jonesy!” He gasped out, exacerbated, as he stopped to look at the older man with eyes growing bloodshot and threatening to expose his grief. “We grew up with everything. Why does he do this!?” He demanded as if he held all the answers and so selfishly kept them all to himself. “He doesn’t need anything!?”  

“I suppose I can’t tell you much that the mountains can’t tell you better.” Jonesy muttered with a shake of his head. “Both ye boys were raised right, he jus’ doesn’t have his head screwed on right.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” He asked with a tremble in his voice.

“Nothing.” Jonesy told him flatly.

 “N-Nothing?” Henry’s grief quickly turned to anger, the word returning his stomach to where it belonged and catching it on fire. 

Before the sheriff’s rage could be turned fully on him, Jonesy put his hands up.

“Sit this one out, I can handle this with the boys here if he comes round here.” 

Henry’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m not going to sit here and do nothing, Jones, if I do nothing then I look just as guilty as him if his gang does stroll into town. I already have come over the ‘favoritism’ of being the banker’s son.”

“Do ye think ye can face this with a clear head?” Jonesy asked knowingly, tipping his head down and raising his brows as he crossed his arms.

Henry paused, inhaling deeply and running his hand from his brow to his chin as he tried to collect himself before nodding.
“I have to.” He groaned, shaking his head as if to shake it all away and then grabbed his hat to place back on his head, shifting it so that it sat comfortably. 

“Take a minute.” Jonesy told him, “and drink a little more o’ that coffee. I gave it a bit o’ the Irish touch.” He told him before stepping out of his office, closing the door with a click behind him. 

Henry heard the door click and nearly collapsed, falling into his seat and staring at the paper as the man on the newspaper stared back at him with that arrogant look Henry was tempted to hit off the man. The troubles Robert Kippel and his gang had gotten into nearby was a growing list. Theft, liquor violations, fraud, assault, murder, the list kept getting longer with each paper. He wondered how much his own brother had done himself, but knowing him, he was too much like himself. Stubborn, proud, and not one to just follow. Knowing him, a born leader, these crimes were of his own… and getting closer to Darlington, where they both grew up and being the banker’s sons, if anyone could cause significant trouble here, it was a Kippel. 

He took a mouthful of the coffee as his deputy had suggested and grabbed the paper before gathering himself up enough to leave his office. 

“Jonesy, let’s ride.” Unsurprisingly, the older man was waiting outside his door.

“Where to, Kippel?” He asked as he followed suit. 

“The bank.” 

“Right then.” 

Henry stepped out into the sunlight and was greeted by his horse and Jonesy’s next to his steed. The brilliant red mare with a natural white blanket and tiger stripes at her knee and withers, mane-less but had a fantail with curly hair and a long tailbone- though short compared to the stallion next to her. She had wise brown eyes that looked up as they came out, nickering softly in recognition when she saw Jonesy come out behind the young sheriff. She stepped readily as she was untethered and mounted, feeling the unrest from both the men and stirring under the man that kept a careful hand with her. 

“Easy Kippel, a horse can pick up on how ye feel.” Jonesy lightly warned as his mare shifted with unease under him, the man savvy with a horse and the one that had gotten Kippel his own stallion. 

“I’m just dandy.” Henry growled as he mounted his own steed, the stallion throwing his head up out of character of the usual nobility he held himself with. Henry clicked his teeth and squeezed his heels as he shifted the reins in his hands, the stallion tapping his feet impatiently as he turned before taking off. The horse huffed under him, tossing his head to the side as they started off strong and giving tale tale signs of bucking. 

“Easy Big Boy.” Jonesy coaxed his companion’s horse as he caught up with his sun-colored mare. 

Henry shook his head to himself as he heard the words of his mentor speak to his horse, taking it as disrespect in the moment as he tried to maneuver the thickened traffic of the city.The horse under him threw his little tantrum as his blood got pumping from the cold start but despite showing his warnings, didn’t buck the sheriff as he rode. He did, however, ignore some of his rider’s immediate commands to avoid any accidents on the slick brick roads full of other men on horses and carriages that were being pulled despite the man’s firm riding.  With Henry’s whirlwind of emotions, he barely noticed the shift in his stallion’s directions, the horse knowing the path well enough to recognize where they were rushing to.

He hadn’t realized he had gotten so far ahead of Jonesy and his mare until he got to the bank, jumping down before Alphonse had completely come to a stop. The stallion huffed and tossed his head at his handler, nipping at him but just shy of actually biting the sheriff that chose to ride him so hard in the busy street with slick horse shoes. He blew in frustration at him as Henry didn’t bother to tether him before running towards the building they stopped at shaking his head and scraping a hoof on the road. 

The bank was only two stories, but was large by every other means. Tall windows lined the first floor, the second story had a balcony that overlooked the street and a clock tower centered to the front door.  The building was tan with white framing and also had large oak doors at the front, but was barely a deterrent for the short adrenaline fueled man as he pushed through them aggressively enough to startle everyone in the building. In the center of the room was a hexagon counter where the bankers stood with their registers, granite countertops over pine counters and  original paintings on the white walls expressing the wealth the bank held. 

The looks, gasps and flinching of civilians as he stepped in as hostile as he had was a reality check, and caused immediate embarrassment making his cheeks and ears flush red. Thankfully though, his familiar face and badge that reflected from the light in the bank was quick to sooth the occupants of the building. However, it was not as quick to sooth his own nerves. 

Henry lowered his head as he walked through the rather busy bank and to the door to the stairs, his pace picking up once more as his boot landed on the first step. His father’s office doors were down the hall and he knocked quietly before letting himself in. The office was regal, a solid oak desk with intricate carvings in it, carpeted floors and locked safes along the walls behind it. 

A short man wearing an italian made gray suit and thin framed round glasses looked up, his hair salt and peppered from age and was a similar physique to Henry. He stood up, ready to tell the intruder he wasn’t allowed here to leave until his eyes recognized his youngest son… and the distraught on his face. 

“Oh, my boy…” A calm voice of understanding spoke out, even in the few words he spoke his charisma was reflected in them.

“Pa.” Henry spoke with a broken voice as he closed the gap between him and his father’s desk, dropping the newspaper on the desk for him to see as he stood over him. 

The man sat back down and took the paper, pushing his glasses down to read the headline and paused before skimming the rest of it. The older man’s head shook slowly as the corner of his lips wrinkled with disappointment.

“Lock the door Henry.” His father sighed, removing his glasses as he dropped the paper and looked back up to his son.

Henry nodded quietly, returning to the door to shut it the rest of the way and clicking it locked before he took a seat across from his father. 

The older man rubbed the bridge of his nose vigorously, a soft growl rising from his chest as he did.

“What do you make of this?”

“I… suppose the same as you.” Henry muttered, leaning back in the seat and crossing his ankle over his knee as the weight of the situation landed on his shoulders and made them sink. One finger tapped the armrest of the chair while the other hand claimed his chin with his index and thumb, rubbing and squeezing as he waited for what his pa would say. 

His father shook his head, folding his hands together with his index fingers extended over his mouth. He let out a hum and tapped his lips gently in thought.

“He’s family… but this has gone well past family matters.” 

“He knows this bank inside out, he knows that I’m the sheriff now, do you think-?”

“No.” His father shook his head, removing his glasses and setting them down to rub the bridge of his nose momentarily before looking at his youngest son. “No, he’s strayed from the path but I don’t think he’s willing to attack us like this… His gang though. I’m not so convinced.” He said with a hand gesture over the paper before pushing it back towards his son.

“What do I do?” Henry asked. 

“What you have to son.” The older man sighed and shook his head. “You have a job to do, you’re the sheriff, and you worked hard to get to where you’re at… but so has he. He’s still my son, he’s still your brother, but he has decided to come back as a wolf and is threatening the flock.” 

Henry swallowed hard, his jaw clenching for a moment as he nodded slowly. “You know I wouldn’t just sit by and let him take everything?” 

“I know that, Henry, you’re better than that.” 

“If I stand back, if I hide, I look as guilty as him.” 

“You already know what you have to do- if it comes to it.” The banker shook his head slowly as he returned his glasses to his face. “You have a good gut… I think it’s best you trust it.” 

Henry sat solemnly for a moment, sinking in the seat for a short minute as he ran the words back through his mind. His gut, his gut told him the worst thing possible and he didn’t want to trust it.

He gave a slow nod before standing up and taking the newspaper back. He kept his head down, clenching his hand around the paper before shaking it in contemplation and nodding. 

“I’m going to have police here, just in case. Make sure there’s no one here, send everyone home. I’ll have the police in their place.” Henry muttered quietly before stepping away, the conversation coming to an unnatural end as he unlocked the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. He made his walk down the hall and stairs, it felt a lot longer than the walk in.  

Sure as always, there was Jonesy waiting outside the door for him. 

“Get yerself sorted?”

“ ‘Spose so.” Henry muttered, avoiding eye contact as he walked past him and stepped outside to where the mentor had tethered both their horses. 

“Ye gonna take it easy this time?”

Henry grumbled under his breath but nodded as he untied Big Boy from the hitch, his hand running across the sandy colored fur on the stallion’s neck. 

“None of this is gonna be easy.” 

“I know it’s not.” Jonesy sighed.

“I want the police to be hidden and patrolling around here. Have some of the men stationed as bankers as well. We’re gonna keep a close eye here.” He told him.

“I assume yer going to be one of them?”

He shook his head quietly before mounting his saddle, shifting uncomfortably as Big Boy whipped his tail and snorted.

The older deputy sheriff untethered his own mare and climbed on, patting her red fur as she groaned under him. 

“I want William, John and Frank inside. Have…” Henry toyed with the reins in his hands for a moment. “Have George, Thomas and five others of your choice outside. Make sure their stationed, I don't want anyone looking inconspicuous in case it is The Rider’s goal.”

“Why don’t ye patrol for a bit while I pick out our officers?” Jonesy offered. 

Henry pursed his lips, his skin wrinkling around his jaw to show his distaste as he rocked his head before he shook his head. 

“You go find your good spirits again, I’ll handle this.” Henry told him, finally lifting his head to look at the older man and nod. “I’m sure Lover isn’t fond of running a wild goose chase after me.” He offered a halfhearted chuckle. 

Jonesy reached over and grabbed his shoulder, giving him a small shake as he nodded. 

“Don’t beat yerself up over this son.” He advised. “This isn’t a weight ye should be forced to carry.” 

“It’s my job to carry this weight.” Henry answered quietly before clicking his teeth and squeezing his thighs to get his stallion moving, heading back to the station and Big Boy much happier with the casual walk back than the rushed adventure to the bank. 

Jonesy watched the young man ride off and sighed heavily, giving his mare a gentle pat on the neck. “What are we gonna to do about him, girl?” 

“What am I gonna do about this?” He grumbled to his steed, the horse flicking his ears back at him to acknowledge that he spoke and answered with a soft whinny as the young man patted his sturdy neck. His shooed hooves clicked steadily on the brick road, the bell ringing as the sound of metal wheels on metal tracks passed with the trolley making its way through town. The valiant beast barely batted his lashes at the vehicle, but gave a snort and a tail flick to a man whistling at the sight of him followed by a ‘that’s a damn good horse’. 

Steady hooves eventually found their way back to the police department once more, where Henry straightened himself out a bit more. 

“Officers.” He spoke up, looking down at five officers, standing outfront that had a sudden awkward quietness that had replaced the muttering. George quickly hid the topic of the mutters behind his back with a sickly nervous expression taking over his face. The edge of Henry’s lips twitched into a sneer at the sight of it. 

“Enough of the chitter chatter.” Henry growled, surprising the group of men by his new demeanor and understanding the looks of pity. Big Boy under him shook his mane, scraping a hoof at the ground and snorted before taking a heavy breath impatiently under the sheriff.  

“George, back inside, who’s watching the drunks?” He asked.

“Oh- William is-”

“That’s your job.” 

“Yessir, sorry.” He quickly answered.

“You’re getting a promotion today, I need you at the bank. I’ll let William know he’s on drunk duty.”

“I- yessir!” The youthful face lighting up at the sound of any sort of excitement.

The other four men straightened up as Kippel spoke to the youngest of them so sternly, keeping their attention on the sheriff and his sudden sternness. 

“I need men at the docks and at the station. If he’s coming here, he’s not going to come from the ‘Welcome to Darlington’ sign. I want eyes everywhere, starting now. Decide among yourselves who goes where. You’ll have backups there soon.” Henry ordered with a grim tone dripping from his voice. The order was followed by a choir of ‘yessir’s and badges starting to hustle to get to work.

Kippel gave a satisfactory nod, tapping his heels and clicking his teeth to get his beast moving back down the road. They had their work cut out for them today.