Fish Heads

Sleep had eventually found Kippel, slouched over in the chair with the colt .45 in one hand with two new carved notches in the handle, his hat in his lap and his jacket and vest hung over the side of it. The sound of the creaking from the bed past the wall a few feet over caused his eyes to flutter open unwillingly, heavy from sleep and exhaustion still in his limbs. He brought his hand up to rub his eyes and hissed out at the tenderness of his face. 

“Gone hurt for ‘while.” The older man grumbled out as he grabbed a bowl and made himself a bowl of food from the night before. “Best not mess with it.” 

Henry groaned as he sat up, tucking the colt .45 away in it’s holster and returning his hat to his head before stretching.
“Too young to be makin’ sounds like that shortstack.” 

It was still better that boy but the nickname made his lips downturn as he loosened up from his stretch and redid a few buttons on his shirt. 

“Been a long few days old man.” Kippel grumbled back.

The man snorted with laughter, shaking his head as he started eating the jambalaya. 

Now that it was morning, a foggy light filled the shack but even in the morning it was sticky and humid. He knew he’d regret it but he picked up his vest and jacket to return to his body then fixed his bolo tie to his neck.

“How old are ya?” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“If I had to guess I’d say you were about fifteen.” 

The comment earned the man narrowed eyes and a scowl at Kippel’s lips. 

“What’s that supposed to mean old man?” 

“Don’t get ornery with me.” The man said dismissively. “If you ain’t fifteen and wanna be taken right, you ought to grow a beard.” 

Henry rubbed at his jaw, feeling the little bit of stubble that had started to grow from not shaving for the last two days and grumbled in his chest. 

“Believe me- had a baby face like ya’s for ‘while, ‘for I got wrinkled. Only thing help was the beard.” The man advised. 

“Really think so?” 

“Take it from an old outlaw like yerself.” 

“I’m not an outlaw.”

“Ya were sure runnin’ like one.” The man pointed out. 

Henry’s top teeth landed on his bottom lip in a scowl at the observation, shaking his head as he lowered his eyes. Outlaw, it didn’t sound right. Kippel certainly hadn’t been following the laws as carefully as he had prior to the bank robbery, but he was by no means an outlaw in his own eyes. 

“Now I don’t care if ya are, certainly hard to believe ya are walking around dressed like one of them city cops.” The man said. “Makes no difference to me but the sooner we get ya outta here the better.”

A grumble came from Kippel, “I wasn’t planning on staying long anyways.” He told him.

“Course not, but sooner ya outta here the less I gotta worry about someone else comin’ up to my door.” The man told him as he set his empty bowl aside and walked across the creaky wooden floor. “If ya ready less head out now. I want to be home by dark.”

Kippel gave a nod, pulling at his collar uncomfortably from the heat as he started following the old man’s lead out of the house. 

The door creaked behind him and he started getting his boots on, cursing and smacking at the side of his neck as a mosquito landed and bit him. 

“Blasted cursed little freaks.” Henry muttered as he shifted his foot to get comfortable in his boots and stepped down the two steps from the porch to the swamp mud. .

Kippel’s tracks from the previous night were still deep in the mud, likely not to be washed away until the next rain and by the way it felt, it wouldn’t be too long. The air was thick and heavy, the ex-lawman was sweating before he even stepped out the door but the warm moist air hit his face and caused a miserable feeling to sink in Henry’s skin. It got hot in Darlington, but it felt like a different kind of disgusting humid heat and the air felt almost too thick to breathe in. Despite the sweat already forming on the old man’s back though, his expression had been unbothered by the heat as he walked through the muck and to the poor excuse of a barn.

“I don’t know how you live out in this weather, old man.” He grumbled out as they stepped into the barn, getting greeted with a soft knicker from the mare, an excited snort from the sandy stallion and an absolute fit from the appaloosa in the form of the horse picking up the food bucket from the previous night to toss at their feet.

“Easy you bastard!” Kippel hissed out, tapping the bucket with the tip of his boot before leaning down to snatch it. 

The older man started chuckling, “don’t have the patience for ‘n attitude?” 

“My brother made that horse fat and nasty. I plan on fixing that.” Kippel huffed out as he collected Big Boy’s food bucket and walked with the older man to get them food and dish it out. 

Breakdown, the horse was like a pig the way he snorted as he ate in a way that was almost impressive. If it wasn’t for him being so wide, you’d think he was starving. Kippel’s lip curved up in a near scowl as he watched, but much like a trainwreck, he just couldn’t look away. 

The older man leaned on a post, watching with his arms crossed and shook his head.

“Ain’t kiddin’- horse acts like he ain’t seen food ‘fore.” The man rumbled out as the horses ate their breakfast. 

Kippel shook his head and looked back at the older man, “I don’t know what to do about it, I’m going to make sure he’s working to lose that weight.”

“Easy ‘nuff- with you runnin’ n all.” 

The response got a grumble out of Kippel, kicking his heel at the dirt floor as he turned to Big Boy and adjusted his hat on his head. 

The overo stallion reached his pink nose out to Kippel and was rewarded with the man petting at his snout before pulling around to start tacking him. 

“Some fancy horses ya got.“ The man noted as he pulled out his older mare, “ain’t ever seen a tail like that ‘fore.” 

Kippel put the saddle over Big Boy’s back and glanced over at the man throwing a rope halter over the mare’s head. “He was a gift-”

“I don’ need the whole story shortstack.” The man interrupted before he could get any further. “If ya, well, not runnin’ like ya say ya are, the less ya tell random strangers, the better it is for ya health.” 

The interruption alone had made Kippel pause, watching the man for a moment before he started tightening the saddle around his stallion. Granted, the man had a point, but the ex-lawman was having a hard time figuring the older man out… true to what he had said about not saying much with how little he had gathered. He fell quiet as he finished tacking Big Boy, looking over to see the old man leading the mare out with nothing more and nothing less than a rope halter and a more than worn blanket over her back. With a second glance around, he saw a saddle in the barn but with how old and dusted it looked, the ex-lawman would likely have gone for just the blanket as well. 

He let out a weighted sigh before collecting Breakdown and tethered him to Big Boy’s saddle. The appaloosa flared his nose, raised his head and attempted to nip at the taller stallion but before his teeth contacted the other stallion’s flanks, Kippel scolded and brought his hand up to swat at the horse. 

“FSK- SKT!” Kippel hissed as the stallion dodged his smack and snorted at him. “Enough of that!” He barked out as he took Big Boy’s reins to pull them both out, the sandy overo unaware of the bite he nearly received on his flanks as he was led out. 

Kippel climbed onto the saddle, making the man snort with laughter from on top of his mare. 

“Think ya ought’ to get a shorter horse. Maybe a pony will do ya better.”

“I think you ought to mind your own business, old man.” Kippel snipped back at him.

The man threw his hands up as he laughed, shaking his head at the younger man before tapping his mare’s side and Kippel followed close behind. 

The ride was ‘quiet’, aside from the obnoxious chirping of crickets, much louder screeching of the cicadas and the occasional snort that came from Breakdown, or the annoyed return snort from Big Boy. In the silence, Kippel was left with his own thoughts. Jonsey, the old man… A part of him wondered why the man let him walk. What was the man thinking when he handed him that gun, when he offered him the badge. Where was the man now. He had no business sitting in that cell he last saw him in… 

The man, still let him walk, and Kippel, had still made his choice. He looked back at Breakdown behind him as he snorted again, the edges of his lips downturned as the stallion’s green eyes met his and lifted his nose as if to ask what he was staring at with a curious nicker. Henry let out a hum to himself, licking his chapped lips as he looked back to the old man on his older mare. He made the decision, and as much as he mulled over it, he didn’t feel an ounce of regret for his choice.

A foul smell ripped Kippel from his thoughts and made him raise his head to see a wooden sign that was dark and tattered with age stood at the corner, the white paint partially faded and just showed the letters- ‘AI AC UA’. 

It reeked of feces, chickens and fish and assaulted Kippel’s nose in a way that physically shook him to his core and made him forget he was trying to find some sort of regret in himself. 

The place, being as close as it had to have been to Darlington, felt almost… too barbaric to be this close to a city. The homes, the shops, the roads, the boats, everything about the place seemed as if it had been made of driftwood and was falling apart. Still, the streets held some resemblance of life, chickens wandering on their own, fishermen at the edge of the swamp fishing while others were bringing in their nets of fish from the small dock. 

“Alachua,” The old man sighed out as he came to a stop and tapped the mare to turn around. “She ain’t perty, but she’s got her own charm.” 

“I don’t think ‘perty’ would be the word I’d use for it.” Kipple muttered.

“Now, if ya willin’ to take any advice from a man who’s been in your shoes, I suggest ya get a change o’ clothes, get the hell outta town before sunset, and grow that beard o’ ya’s out.” The man said.

“You wouldn’t know anything about my shoes.”
The words had caught the man off guard, making him double take and start laughing. 

“I know they still got mud on ‘em from all that runnin’ shortstack.” He said as he shook his head and reached into his shirt to pull out a small canvas sack to toss to Henry. “Take that, and forget ya ever met me.” 

Kippel caught the sack, shifting it in his hand and realizing quickly it was, snapped his eyes up to the old man.

“I don’t need this to forget you.”

“But you do need it.” The man said with a nod as he turned his mare and already started back the way he came at their leisurely walk.

As much as Kippel wanted to refuse, by the time he went to turn around to look back for the man who was now gone. He was hardly in the position to turn down the money anyways.

Kippel huffed to himself, tucking the bag into his vest and squeezing Big Boy’s sides to get moving into the town with Breakdown in tow and starting up his snorting. The portly stallion sneezed, shaking his head with his tail starting to flag behind him as he was led. 

From what Kippel had learned about this small swamp town was that the people were as strange as the smell. They didn’t talk much, hardly acknowledging any polite small talk or gesture Kippel offered in passing. The friendly sheriff demeanor slowly dropped with each step, the ‘good afternoons’ turning to just a smile and a slight wave, to just a nod as he stepped up onto the porch of the building that had ‘GI NERAl STOI E” painted in faded white over its door. 

“Good afternoon.” Kippel greeted the woman that stood at the counter. He was met with silence, his eyes gazing around the minimal goods the store had before returning to her when he didn’t receive any acknowledgement. 

With how she stood, Kippel wasn't certain she was even alive, dark skin that looked like tanned leather, wrinkles from the abuse of the sun and eyes that seemed to stare unblinkingly at him. He smiled awkwardly at her before nodding and lowering his eyes, going from shelf to shelf to get any supplies he could use for however long he’d find himself in the swamps. At least, what little the general store had to offer. 

Kippel ended up walking out of the store having discovered that the older man had given him more money than he could have thought, from what he had gathered, likely stolen money but Kippel, now a killer, had no place in determining if using stolen money given to him was morally right or wrong. Frankly, the once sheriff was having a difficult time gauging any sort of moral compass. With a brand new preowned bag, now full of dried foods, a flint and steel they thankfully had, some rope, more bullets, a faded simple blue plaid shirt and a set of gloves. 

What he hated more than just his current situation as he stepped out of the store was the way people had gathered and stared, as if they knew of his recently committed sins. As if they had watched him do it themselves, innocent bystanders to the lives he had taken and the blood that had spilled. 

As he stepped down the steps, Kippel looked at his hands, as if they might still have blood on them, or his shirt and vest... he couldn't perceive any with his eyes, nothing but caked mud, but he still felt the warmth against his fingers and the splatter across his face.

It wasn’t often the stallion would reach to comfort him in this way, but as he stepped forward the sandy stallion reached out to him and nuzzled his upper lip to his chest. It brought Kippel’s eyes up and he offered Big Boy a faint smile as he scratched at both his ears. 

“Ats a good boy.” Kippel muttered, running his hand down Big Boy’s face as his gaze turned and scanned down the street, as if people were just gathering to stare. He patted the stallion’s pink nose before pulling back and securing the bag to Big Boy’s saddle, though he kept his eyes up and swiveled at the many eyes on him. Breakdown, he must have been just as uneasy about it with the way he pawed the ground, snorted and kept shaking his head, seeming ready to run.

He wasn’t sure if it was paranoia, but it still certainly felt like he wasn’t welcome here any longer. The expressions he saw were that of pity and mild anger. Henry double checked his saddle and then checked the bag one more time before climbing onto Big Boy’s back. 

“Let’s get out of here Caprice.” Henry muttered as he shifted Breakdown’s lead over his lap and squeezed his sides. He would never admit that he left that place in a hurry, but Big Boy’s long strides had said otherwards and with little complaint from the dark appaloosa following close behind. 

“Nothing but strange people back there, huh?” Henry muttered as he nudged Big Boy to slow down and looked back at the town now lost behind them. Unlike Jonsey, neither of the stallions were much of a good conversation piece, but at least Breakdown seemed to snort in agreement and Henry would accept it with a chuckle pulling from his lips. “I could tell you didn’t like it either. Big Boy is here showing off his bravery.” 

Kippel let out a huff of a chuckle, shaking his head to himself as sweat dripped down his brow. “What sort of trouble could you have gotten yourself into back there?” He asked the appaloosa, but dared not look back at his empty back. “Sure must have caused a fright if they were acting like that.” He chuckled out and swatted at a fly that kept trying to land on him.   

The portly stallion let out a soft nicker and shook his head with another sneeze, his tail wavering slightly behind him. 

“Aren’t you just a character now?” Henry asked as he brought himself to glance back at the appaloosa and met his expressive green eyes, searching for some sort of trouble to get into as petty as it may be. 

“What could you possibly be thinking?” The ex-lawman huffed out and shortly got his answer as the stallion started lipping at the back on Big Boy’s haunches. 

“Fstsk-” He scolded, swatting at the stallion’s nose and the horse let out a deep grunt of irritation over it. “No wonder you had the whole town looking at you, never could behave for longer than five minutes” He grumbled.

Feeling Big Boy heave a heavy sigh under him, he reached down and patted at the stallion’s neck as he fell silent and squeezed his sides to pick up the pace again. He had a lot of ground to cover before he was out of sniff range of the Darlington police.

~

The fire crackled under Kippel, the orange light kissing his face as his vest and coat were decidedly the best fire starter for the night. He pulled out the pack of cigarettes he got from the general store in the strange town, opened them and pulled out a small card with a drawing printed onto it. A man wrestling with an alligator with the jaws opened wide at the viewer and the tail splashing water behind the rugged man trying to man handle it. He let out an unamused snort but tucked the card back and pulled a cigarette out, lighting it with the flickering fire he had started. 

He looked past the rim of his hat as the dark appaloosa rolled in the grass nearby, scratching at his nose as he puffed on the cigarette. The sandy stallion lifted his head from where he had plucked grass and stared back at Kippel sitting at the fire, snorting his direction before returning to grazing. 

Hazel eyes returned to look at the fire as he let himself sit down, breaking open a few of the buttons of his sweat soaked shirt and grabbed a can of beans to break open and put into the edge of the fire to warm up. He let out a heavy sigh, smoke spilling from his lips and nose and he watched it slowly disappear into the treeline with the smoke from his fire. 

After eating the can and snuffing out the fire, Kippel laid down with his saddle pad as a pillow and stared at the trees above him until he inevitably fell asleep to the sound of frogs croaking and cicadas chirping into the dark night. He was doing the right thing, a disservice done to him and his family by the men that led Robert to do all of this. None of it was like him.