The Killer

A knock on the door made Kippel groan as he woke, his world spinning around him and his head pulsing from the hangover. He sniffled as he shifted, his whole body aching and refusing to comply with his will to stand from the couch. His mouth was dry and bitter, still tasting the illegal moonshine from the night before on his breath and once he was on his feet and wavering, he realized he was still somewhat intoxicated. 

Another knock at the door rattled through his bones, waking up the nauseousness as he started to step towards it. His face throbbed from the beating he had taken the previous day combined with pulsing from the alcohol. He reached up to rub his nose to find bandaging in the way and sucked his teeth at the tenderness of his face. He stumbled over his boots on the ground, almost falling and catching himself on the arm of the couch, nearly spilling whatever else may reside in his stomach. 

Kippel brought his fist to his mouth as if to keep the contents in as he burped and wavered clumsily to the door as another knock rattled his sensitive head. 

“I’m coming.” He growled out, opening the door and leaning heavily on the doorway as he looked at Jonesy on his porch. The man looked as if he hadn’t drunk an ounce of liquor the previous night, but his usual cheery morning attitude was gone and he held his hat in his hand at his chest. 

“I tried to let ye sleep.” Jonesy spoke quietly, noticing the bandages on the younger man’s face and nodded. “Suns high.” 

Henry nodded with a grumble in his tired voice.

“I’ll make some coffee, sit back down boy.” 

Kippel didn’t have the energy to argue, his hand sliding down the door frame as he pulled away and let his mentor in, who shut the door behind himself as the younger man walked through the house like a wounded animal to the couch. 

Jonesy made his way downstairs to the kitchen, more than familiar in the home that was once Kippel’s parent’s home before they moved and left the younger boy the home.

The young sheriff let himself collapse back onto the couch, closing his eyes as if to catch a little more sleep before the older man returned but the hangover kept his mind from resting. 

The smell of coffee and sound of boots and spurs approaching made the younger man sit up on the couch, sniffling and wincing over the pressure in his face from the gesture.

His hands wrapped around the warm mug to bring to his face, huffing the steam from it as if it were the cure to everything that afflicted the young man. Jonesy sat down next to him, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees as he took a sip from his own coffee and then set the mug down on the chipped table. 

“Is not good Henry.”

“None of it’s good.” Henry growled grumpily and took a sip of the coffee, burning his mouth and throat as he swallowed it. 

“Cody.” Jonesy muttered, “Cody Carson died. Last night. Drowned on ‘is own blood after the beating you gave ‘im.”

“Goddamnit Jonesy.” Kippel pleaded with a pained expression and revelation in his voice, shaking his head as if denying the information as he set the mug down with a heavy thump. 

The older man just shook his head as the information processed for the younger, knowing it had bothered Henry as he rocked and then stood on his feet. 

Kippel ran his hands through his hair, walking around the table and pacing for a moment as the news brought him back to reality. Cody Carson, he was a criminal, he had likely killed some of his own officers but he still should have been processed properly… not beaten to death by an officer, no, the sheriff.

“Why don’t ye clean up and change, I’ll wait outside for ya.” Jonesy offered as he stood up. 

Henry paced for a moment before he stopped, a heavy sigh leaving him before he nodded and looked back at his mentor. 

“I won’t be long.”

Henry was a man of his word, stepping out after he had changed but his wounds had already been carefully tended to and he wasn’t going to bother the bandaging. He assumed Jonesy must have done so after bringing him home, but admittedly didn’t remember much from the night before. 

Jonesy pulled the cigarette from his mouth as the younger man came out, nodding to him before pulling out a slim metal case to offer him one as well. Henry was never much of a smoker, but after yesterday and the morning he already had, he accepted it, bringing the rolled cigarette to his mouth as Jonesy lit a match and put it under Henry’s cigarette. 

The wounded man puffed on it, claiming it in his fingers as he blew out the smoke and shook his head with a cough. 

“Where to?”

“Livery, to go pick up Big Boy.” Jonesy answered him as he started walking down the steps and to the gate.

Henry nodded, not remembering a trip to the livery as he followed Jonesy down the path and to his brilliant red appaloosa tied to the post outside his house. 

“At least he had a good night.” Henry muttered, getting a small chuckle from the wrinkled man. 

“Someone had to.” Jonesy said as he mounted Lovemaker, offering his hand to Henry who claimed his wrist and allowed himself to be pulled up behind the man. “If ye feel sick, let me know. See ye left the street a mess.”

Henry grumbled in response, closing his eyes as Jonesy squeezed his thighs and they got moving. The rocking of the wide mare was easy but still made Henry’s head throb and motion sickness try to claim him. He did his best to keep it down, groaning quietly as he complained and getting a heavy snort as the mare whipped her tail with irritation of the additional weight on her back. 

Kippel opened his eyes to see the big bold letters ‘DARLINGTON LIVERY’ written across the large barn on the outskirts of the city. He never thought he’d be so grateful to finally come across it as he let himself slide off the blanket appaloosa with an uneasy whine and wavering feet. He heard a chuckle behind him and could only respond with an appropriate middle finger directed blindly behind him as he leaned against the nearest wall of the building. 

Jonesy climbed down and took Lover’s reins over her head, getting a disapproving whinny from the shiny horse as she was pulled into the barn doors. 

“Pull yerself together, ye got a lot to do today.” Jonesy cracked to the young sheriff, still desperately clinging to his optimism despite the consistent grimness that had claimed them both in the last two days. 

Henry nodded, pulling himself off the side of the livery to follow Jonesy and his mare in. Love Maker bobbed her head, snorting at the stabled horse in the livery as she passed by with the lead of her handler. The young sheriff must have been eyeing the horses in the stalls just as much to not notice the heavy built man with a salt and peppered beard and an apron on walking up to them. 

“How can I help ya?” The gristled voice spoke as he wiped his dirty calloused hands off on his apron, tools hanging from his pockets.

“Here to pick up Alphonse Caprice.” Henry spoke up as he looked at the man before his eyes strayed to another Loshenka horse in the stall just past him. The brown face with the pink snout and white stripe down his face reminded him of the deed he had done the previous day as he approached the stall. 

“Fine horse.” The man answered, watching as the young man approached the random stall of the vicious horse he had taken in the previous day. 

“ ‘Fraid that horse ain’t for sale if that’s why ya looking.” The man told him, “If ya wanna keep your fingers, keep ya hands to yaself.” 

“No, no, make sure he doesn’t go on sale.” Kippel told him, braving his fingers to rub the snout of the beast before the spotted appaloosa. 

The man’s face dropped as the younger man was able to pet the beast’s face without him getting aggressive and claiming what wasn’t his.

“Well I be damned.” 

“I’ll be coming back for him.”

“Well, ya can pet him but still don’t mean-”

“That’s Kippel.” Jonesy cut the man off, causing an awkward silence to blanket over them as Henry pulled his hand from the muzzle of the horse. 

“You said you were picking up Caprice?” The man asked after a moment, walking further down the stalls and opening up the door, grabbing the halter to lead him out and to his owner. 

Henry nodded, pulling his hand back and dusting them off as he was approached by the stable man and his sandy Loshenka. 

“Damn near had the man arrested when I saw this horse. I knew it belonged to one of ya own but man certainly wasn’t dressed the part.” He answered as he tethered Big Boy and started to tack him for the sheriff. 

Henry looked from him to Jonesy, his eyebrows furrowing as he lifted his chin.

“I thought you brought him up here?” Henry asked, getting a head shake from the deputy that scratched at Love Maker’s forehead. 

“Figured that be you.” Jonesy answered as Lover snorted. 

“Nah, some red headed broncbuster. Didn’t catch his name ‘fore he left, but he was tryin’ to get some work.” The man explained as he put the bit in Big Boy’s mouth. 

“Make sure those straps are tight, he has the tendency to refuse a saddle.” Henry pointed out when he noticed the man finishing up. Sure as he said, when the man went to check, the saddle was loose.

“What’d he look like?” Henry asked as the man made the correction. 

“Red head, had a short beard and ‘stache. Riding a mighty fine horse if I have to say. Would have guessed he stole him by the looks of ‘im.” He explained as he untethered Big Boy and brought the reins to Henry’s hand. 

“Must have been that friend ye made yesterday.” Jonesy chuckled playfully to him. 

“Last time I ever go drinking with you old man.” Henry cracked, the smile making his face ache and it quickly disappeared. Big Boy sniffed at him, huffing and snorting unhappily with him as his tail wagged with distaste, still smelling the saloon, tobacco and alcohol on the young sheriff. 

“Well thank you.” Henry told the man, pulling his wallet out to offer the man money but was denied. 

“Already covered sheriff.” 

Henry’s eyebrows furrowed but nodded slightly, returning the money to his pocket. 

“Well, if you happen to see him again, thank him for me.” 

“If I recognize him sir.” The man tipped his head to them both before getting back to work. 

Henry pulled on Big Boy to lead him out of the Livery before mounting alongside Jonesy. 

“I can guess this isn’t the only reason you pulled me out today.” 

“No.” Jonesy answered with a shake of his head. “We have to meet up with your father.” 

A wave of dread went through Kippel’s body as his father was mentioned, shaking his head and wishing he had held onto the cigarette he had lost on his ride with Love Maker. Henry hung his head, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat as he rode Big Boy, following Jonesy’s lead and focused on the sounds of the city at noon- far different from the sounds the city made at midnight. 

Men worked and shouted out at the docks, bells ringing, creaking carts and horse hooves filled the streets. On one corner a trumpet player competed for attention against a paperboy, likely selling the news about the Rookery Bay robbery from the day before and around the bend was a man yelling something about religion. Henry had always found comfort in the sounds of the busy street but today, he was finding himself wishing it would all go quiet for once. The city was not generous to a man nursing a hangover. 

Big boy snorted under him, huffing and nodding his head as Love Maker came to a stop in front of him. Jonesy climbing from his mare brought him back to reality before climbing off his own saddle with a click of his spurs when he landed from the tall horse. He gave his stallion a pat on the neck as he looked up, realizing they hadn’t gone to the bank, or even his parent’s house. They had pulled up to the clinic and Henry could feel his stomach drop past his knees and a wave of dread came over him. Knowing wrinkled eyes met his own as he looked over at him, the older man removed his hat and Big Boy snorted against the young sheriff’s back for him to be tethered. Henry swallowed hard, tying up the tether before removing his hat and followed Jonesy into the building. 

Kippel never understood what people meant when they said they had an out of body experience until he stepped into the building and was faced with the grim look his father held and his grieving mother. His limbs felt numb as the woman who gently cried stood up and approached him, pulled him into a tight hug before drawing back and reaching up to pet his face. Her lip quivered, her blue eyes pained as she looked at him, “Oh Henry.” She whispered through tears. 

Henry lowered his eyes from her, having a hard time seeing his mother cry while his father stood solemnly past her- talking under his breath with Jonesy. 

His mother took Mr.Kippel’s arm as they were led by a white coat, Henry shortly behind them and Jonesy walking just behind him. The only confirmation he got of his presence was a firm hand squeezing his shoulder before they walked through the back doors. Rows of bodies on tables that they passed, concealed by blankets but Henry felt he knew every single one of them. All comrades he had worked with prior, all men he might as well have killed himself. They stopped in front of the most familiar one of all and Henry felt the room start to spin around him as his father confirmed and his mother started to weep louder. His hat crumpled in his hands, folding it unnaturally as he hung his head. This wasn’t right. 

His eyes closed to try to stop the spinning around him, shaking his head slightly as it felt it had only made it worse. 

“Henry?” A hand landed on his shoulder and made the younger man open his eyes and look up at the older man, giving him a couple of silent nods before pulling back as his father started to talk about the funeral plans. 

Henry made his way out, down the hall and to the doors to get outside and take a deep breath. His heart raced, his head pounding as his hands started to shake and nausea started to creep back up on him. The door opened and closed behind him, Jonesy at his heels coming out of the building. 

‘Henry, are you-?”

“No.” Kippel threw his hat down and his hands up in a small fit of rage as he turned to his mentor. “None of this is okay.” He hissed out, “You know that.” 

Jonesy lowered his head, putting his hat back on his head as he shook it with a grim expression over his face. 

The red mare winnied at Jonesy from her post, bobbing her head and it seemed to make Big Boy lift his head and shift on his feet in a chain reaction. 

“I can’t do this Jonesy.” Henry caved, gesturing at the building as his eyes watered up. What he stood for, what he had worked for, it all felt as if it had been for nothing. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“It’s-” The man was cut short as Kippel removed the badge from his chest, handing it to the man that was reluctant to take it. Wrinkled fingers wrapped around it, staring at it with a dumbfounded look on his face before looking up at the younger man. 

“Kippel.”

Henry stepped away, grabbing his saddle as he put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up on his horse. He claimed his reins in his hand, throwing the tether over the nape of Big Boy’s neck as his stallion impatiently tossed his head and huffed, his feet ready to move as they stamped at the ground. 

Jonsey stared up at the younger man, the unusual expression of grief and uncertainty on his face as he dropped his arms to his sides. 

“Well.. I suppose… I never understood what the grass-”

“I’m stepping down Jonesy.” Henry told him as his horse impatiently shifted under him, causing the red mare next to him to bow her neck and bounce on her front hooves as she snorted from the high emotions. Before the man could say much more, Kippel kicked Big Boy’s sides, getting an arrogant snort as the horse threw his head and started to take off down the road. 

His hooves thundered against the brick road, his breath heavy as he snorted and panted, the reins pulled and shifted to avoid traffic as Henry recklessly rode through the busy city streets. Before the stallion could completely stop in front of the Darlington Police Department, Kippel’s boots hit the ground and was grabbing Big Boy’s tether to loosely tie him before rushing into the building. The door flung open and Kippel stormed in, eyes turning up to look at him in the busier than usual building. Word had gotten around quickly, a man dying behind bars over his brutality and the gossip going quiet as the shirt man pushed through the crowded building to his office. 

The door slammed behind him, once ready to get his belongings from the desk but his eyes came across a colt .45 sitting on the desk, the handle made of red wood and the steel of the gun worse for wear. A growl slipped through his teeth, baring in a snarl as he ripped his own gun from his belt and snatched the gun from the desk. With shaking hands, he opened the cylinder to check for bullets, grumbling under his voice as he lined it up, closed it back and cocked the gun. His belongings were a forgotten matter to the once sheriff as he stormed back out of the office with the loaded and ready gun in hand as he marched through the line of cells. 

The short man stopped at the cell of the older criminal, eyes wide and watching as the older man looked up just in time to eat a bullet. The sound echoed in the building and caused a scramble of men ducking down and exclaiming in roars of surprise. Kippel let out a growl, holstering the colt as he backed away from the cell and then started to walk to the exit. His mind spun in circles, a cloud hanging over him and starting to consume him as his eyes focused on his path.

His feet were wiped out from under him, pain filling his chest as he landed facedown and sending waves of pulsing through his tender face as a knee was placed on his back and his arms were forced behind him with the click of handcuffs.

“Let me go!” Kippel spat out, registering what was happening later than he could react with a fight as he was pulled off the ground and to his feet. “I did justice and you all know it! Don’t turn your backs to me!” The ex-lawman yelled out as two, once fellow, officers walked him to a cell and shut him into it. 

“You killed two unarmed men in a cell, Kippel!” The older of the two lawmen yelled at him. “You’re not going anywhere right now.

Kippel’s eyes narrowed as he saw the colt in the officer’s hand, his lips curling into a snarl as he pushed himself against the bars with red eyes. “Don’t you mishandle that gun Harold!” He barked at him. “Let me out of here! You know damn well I don’t deserve to be locked in here!” He roared out, his blood boiling as his face flushed with rage and his nose leaked from his pre existing injuries. 

“Not until you’ve at least calmed down.” The man rumbled back and that’s when Henry heard pity in the man’s voice. The tone of voice hit him like a brick wall, making him step back from the bars and as his heel met the bench, he dropped onto it with a heavy grunt. 

He hung his head, missing the weight of his hat on his head when he realized he didn’t have it to hide his eyes behind anymore. He felt exposed, everything aired out to the public as he leaned back against the bars, whispers surrounding him all with the same pity he heard from the arresting officer’s voice when he was locked up and the cell floor spinning under him. It made him close his eyes and attempt to tune it out but everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the same sickening sight of the street where his own blood lay from a bullet he had sent.

His head pressed back against the cell bars and at some point he must have dozed off despite his unforgiving mind because the sound of the metal lock clicking pulled him from his eyes open and he was looking up at a grayed man standing in front of him in the cell with a look of disappointment and… commiseration. 

Kippel sat up more, glancing around through the bars to see it was empty aside from another man locked in the cell two down from him. 

“Henry.” The man sighed, drawing the younger man’s hazel eyes back to him as he came over and sat down next to him, Kippel’s hat returned to his head and a hand squeezing his shoulder. 

The cuffs came loose from his wrist and Kippel brought his arms in front of him, rubbing the soreness from his wrists as they sat in silence for a moment.

“Every man comes to a crossroad and has to decide to go left, or right.” Jonesy told him, his eyes lowered as he spoke and toyed with Kippel’s sheriff badge in his hands. Henry watched the old man’s face, doubt and remorse filling his mind as his eyes lowered to the badge he held in his hands. 

Jonesy clasped the badge in his hand for a moment and shook it, nodding slightly before placing it in his coat pocket. 

“Never could tell what the sky was thinking…” He grumbled under his breath as he reached to his waist and pulled out the colt .45 that once belonged to the other Kippel. Finally raising his eyes to the younger man, he held the colt by its barrel to offer the handle to Kippel. 

Hazel eyes locked onto the gun, then followed up the man’s arm to his eyes with a small nod as his hand claimed the handle of the gun. 

“I’ll be gone by morning… Is Breakdown still at the Livery?” Kippel asked. 

Jonesy nodded quietly, leaning back in the cell as Henry stood up and stepped back. 

Kippel looked back as he got to the open cell door, meeting the man’s sunken eyes only for him to tip his hat to him. 

It wasn’t a goodbye Henry would have wanted, but it was one that had to be. 

The ex-lawman rushed out of the building and into the dark street, fixing his hat on his head and holstering the colt into his belt on his way out. His eyes turned up to meet the brilliant red mare and his sandy stallion waiting outside, both sets of ears turning up to acknowledge him as he approached. 

Kippel couldn’t help a final farewell to the mare, rubbing her nose gently and then patting her neck before he untethered Big Boy and mounted. 

“Let’s not overstay.” Henry muttered as he pulled on his reins, his stallion throwing his head as he huffed and snorted at the sudden hurry when Kippel squeezed his sides. Big Boy’s hooves thundered under him as he let Kippel lead, the train station, the docks, everything they would see of the big city for the last time until he was pulled to a stop at the Livery.  

Kippel jumped off his horse, his spurs clicking as he made land and rushed into the Livery where the older man was working. 

“I need the appaloosa,” Henry said in a hurry. “Now.”

“Well I can’t just-”

Kippel drew the gun from his belt and pulled the hammer as he pointed it. “Now.”

The man dropped the tool as he raised his hands to his head, “N-No need for that- I’ll, I’ll just get him.” He said with a quiver in his voice as he backed up. 

“A halter and tether, that’s it.” Henry ordered with a growl in his voice, keeping the gun level as the man opened the stall door and grabbed the halter attached to the dark appaloosa.

Bernard snapped his teeth at the man, narrowly missing and his lips turning up as the stallion huffed and stomped his hooves from being pulled on. 

“Here, here just take the damned beast!” The man shouted as he snapped a tether to the halter and dropped it, his hands returning to his head. 

Henry snatched the rope, gun raised in one hand and the rope in the other as he pulled on the stubborn beast that pulled back and snorted his disapproval. He led Breakdown out of the Livery before he holstered his gun and tied him to Big Boy’s saddle, the two horses meeting noses for a moment before Breakdown let out a squeal of disapproval and nipped at Big Boy who threw his head with a matched squeal. 

“We don’t have time for this.” Kippel growled, holtering his brother’s gun as he climbed onto Big Boy’s saddle and swatted at Breakdown’s nose when he turned to nip at his leg. 

“HYAH!” Kippel yelled out as he kicked at Big Boy’s sides, the horse nearly bucking under him as he snapped his tail and started to take off under the lawman. 

Breakdown learned quickly to either keep up or get dragged by the taller stallion as they started to move.

The sounds of whistles behind Kippel kept him riding, hooves thundering as they ran over brick road and then came over the wooden bridge under the sign that read, ‘Come Back Soon’. Kippel had a good feeling he wouldn’t ever be coming back here, he’d never see home again.  

Gunfire rang out, shouting filled the humid night air behind him as he rode hard out of the city and through the farmland just outside the busy life. Brick turned to wood, wood turned to dirt and mud, mud turned to swamp. 

Henry panted, his limbs on fire and drenched in sweat and mud just as his two horses were. He reached up to rip the bandages from his face off that had fallen lose from sweat and barely did anything anymore. There was no energy for the steeds to fight anymore, both of their breaths heavy as they refused to run anymore and slowed to a trot, and then a walk before stopping altogether. 

His head was on a swivel, listening through his own uneven breaths and was met with nothing more than crickets and fireflies. He couldn’t even see the lights from the city anymore, surrounded by swamp and large cypress. It must have been a miracle that he didn’t run across any gators where they ended up. 

Kippel sniffled, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve before dismounting and giving his equally sweaty stallion a pat on his neck. The air was sticky and humid, all of their stamina drained but if they were to stop here, they would either be found and caught or worse. He didn’t make it this far just to be kenneled up and put down like some old hunting dog that couldn’t hunt anymore. The ex-lawman removed the tether from Big Boy’s saddle, taking Bernard’s lead in one hand as the wide stallion huffed arrogantly in preparation of being forced to move and Big Boy’s reins in the other- who decided shaking his head and snorting was an appropriate attempt of a refusal to budge. 

Henry trekked through the mud of the swamp, his eyes slowly adjusting with the help of the fireflies that fluttered around him in the dark and unforgiving swamp. Mosquitos buzzed at his ears and in his struggle to swat them away, he shifted the tether to his other hand, both horses behind them and all covered in mud from their knees down. Cursing and spitting under his breath with each step and every swat, Kippel nearly sent out a prayer to a god he didn’t believe in when Big Boy lifted his head, ears swiveling forward as he let out a small knicker of recognition. 

As Kippel looked up, he too could have let out an excited nicker. Lights. Lights meant shelter, lights meant he wouldn’t have to make a mud grave for him and two horses. He could have nearly wept.