How to Die for Nothing

A long day of stationing men where he deemed fit in case a certain close relative came into town takes a lot out of a man, and it sure as hell made Henry weary. His nerves were high, and he hoped his pa had been right. He wasn’t so much worried about his brother as much as he was worried about the company he kept with him, but he’d be lying to say he wasn’t concerned about facing a Kippel through bars. Deep down, he always thought the day might come but he had done little to truly prepare himself for it. 

He shifted on Big Boy, his legs going numb from being stationed at the end of the block overlooking the bank as he gnawed on abused fingers. His eyes stared out but were looking far more distant than just the bank or the train station past it. His eyes had met the never ending turning of the waves past the short that were barely visible from his position. His gut churned, and though everyone who knew him and his brother claimed he wouldn’t show up, that he wouldn’t target his own family, that he wouldn’t put Henry through this torment, this Kippel wasn’t so convinced. He grew up trusting his gut and right now, his gut wasn’t telling him anything good. 

His steed snorted and shifted his feet in recognition of the bright red mare approaching but Kippel barely noticed, only coming to reality when a hand laid on his shoulder and the sheriff’s hand flicked to grab the handle of his .45 remington but came short of drawing it when he realized the old calloused hand belonged to Jonesy on his Love Maker.

The older man gave a small nod to him, the same grim look from earlier still glued on his face. The old man worried about Kippel, not so much if he would make the right choice, but how he would handle seeing his brother in person after the many newspaper stories about him and the gang he had joined.

The stallion under the short sheriff shifted his head, sniffing at the mare’s snout who snorted back at him and let out a small nicker. Henry tapped the reins to his neck to bring his attention back despite the hours he must have spent standing there staring off himself. At least one of them needed to be attendant and though Big Boy complied, he scraped at the ground and bobbed his head with rebellion. The mare lifted her head and let out a small whinny in response to the stallion’s little fit, shifting on her hooves under her aged handler but settled as a gentle calloused hand scratched at her withers. 

“He’s coming… I can feel it.” Henry said with sickness dripping from his tongue as he turned his eyes to his mentor, “I’m going to have to jail my own brother.” 

Jonesy nodded quietly, not having the words to comfort him or at least attempt to in the moment. He pulled his hand back and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle that was typically his favored seat. His mare shifted a step backwards with unease under him before returning shoulder to shoulder with the stallion next to her, at unrest with the unusual solemnness her handler had felt throughout the day. 

All they could do was sit, hope and pray that the older Kippel brother never showed. 

“Standing here ain’t gonna do much.” Jonesy spoke up after a few hours of standing there, their ponies both getting restless with their snorts, blows and feet shifting. 

“It might stop him if he sees me.” Henry told him, slowly pulling his eyes from the bank to his mentor. 

“We can’t know if he’s coming for sure.” The older man asked, trying to return his light demeanor by offering a smile to him. 

Henry just sighed and shook his head, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle.

“Just in my head ‘bout it. Been so damn long since I even saw him, but I don’t think he’s changed much.” Henry told him as he picked at the leather reins. “He always had his pride to him, used to look up to ‘im.“

“Ye gonna skin that smokewagon or stand around whistlin’ dixie?” Jonesy teased, taking the back of his hand to playfully smack at Henry’s shoulder.  

Henry shook his head and gave Big Boy a tap with his heels to get him moving. 

“Ain’t no need right now.” Henry forced a chuckle as they got moving, Big Boy ready to get moving after being dormant for so long.

The mare under Jonesy didn’t wait for a command as Alphonse got moving, quickly following his lead and walking shoulder to shoulder with him. Love Maker felt like more of an extension of the older man than a steed. 

Henry shook his head and the man’s efforts had gotten a chuckle out of him as he lowered his eyes. The sound of the horse hooves clicking on the brick road helped comfort him with Jonesy’s small banter.

“Maybe I got this all backwards, he’s strayed far but he’s not heartless. He is still my brother.” 

“Ye still made a daisy call.” Jonesy comforted him. 

“Best to be safe than sorry.” Henry grumbled back, patting his steed’s neck to try and settle the beast’s persistent head tossing. 

The two hadn’t made it around a full block before they heard gunshots rang out, the sound of men shouting echoing through the alleys and screams of women and men alike. Horse hooves clattered in panic, a horse screaming as it ran from the street the chaos had been heard from. 

The hairs on the back of Henry’s neck stood on end, a chill running up his spine as his stomach dropped and his chest felt like it were going to collapse in on itself. He knew he shouldn’t have moved from his post. His grip tightened on the reins of his beast and he quickly drew his iron from his belt.

The sheriff clicked his teeth and kicked his spurs, roaring out a “HYAH!” and Big Boy under him was quick to react with a snort, his hooves rapidly clicking on the brick road as he loyally charged towards the gunfire and chaos. Just behind him, Jonesy followed close pursuit on his brilliant red mare- his eyebrows furrowed, a grimace on his face with his own gun out and ready.

Hooves skid as they rounded the corner to the street of the bank, a squeal coming from the mare behind them as she nearly lost her footing and then panted out as she caught herself and pressed on. 

Though expected, the site came as a horror to the young sheriff’s eyes as he pulled his reins to skid to a stop. Big Boy huffed and puffed as his feet were nearly lost under him, throwing his head and threatening to rear as gunfire continued to ring out.

“Kippel! Cover!” His mentor’s voice rang out from behind him, dismounting his mare and giving her hind quarters a smack to get her to run off. Love Maker tossed her head, giving out a roar of surprise at the unusual manhandling before turning heel, bucking her back legs out once before she took off the other direction. 

Henry was frozen in the saddle, his gun out as he clenched the handle and the reins, unable to remove his eyes from the bank and its broken windows. Men in the building, firing out at the police that took cover behind an abandoned carriage with a horse down and firing back. There were already two bodies of officers at a glance and it made Henry’s stomach twist up in his anguish. His cheeks and ears flushed red, having to take a gasp for breath as he realized he stopped breathing for a moment. 

Finally, the young sheriff aimed at the windows and did his best to keep a steady hand. 

“We have you surrounded Rookery Bay Riders!” Henry roared out over the gunfire. “Out! With your hands up!” 

The young sheriff could hear the air off a bullet as it narrowly missed him, making his heart stop for a second and dodge to the side despite it being useless to attempt to avoid a bullet long gone. Henry returned the bullet at the window and dismounted quickly as Big Boy decided it was time to rear and screech out. He grit his teeth, hearing his usually well tempered stallion scream out before abandoning him on the bloodied street. 

He darted for the nearby cart, ducking behind it and feeling a hand grab his shoulder to pull him further down. His eyes met the grayed eyes of his mentor, his own face pale as he lightly trembled and was pulled further to safety. His stomach threatened to give up what little contents it had due to the stress- it wasn’t confirmed, that his brother was there, that it was even the Rookery Bay Riders, but his nerves insisted that it was his own brother that had shot the bullet at him.

“They’re shouldn’t be any hostages, we can wait ‘em out. They oughta run out of bullets ‘ventually.” 

“We don’t have that kinda time!” Henry growled out, pushing the man’s hand off his shoulder to stand and attempting to return fire only for the same hand to grab the back of his coat and drag him back down under the carriage. The sounds of gunfire, bullets against wood and screaming horses near deafening as the older man tried to ration over them. 

“Have ye lost yer goddamned mind!? Ye wanna be killed too!?”

“Less you got any better ideas!?” Henry roared back at him, shoving the man’s hand off of him once more before standing back up. 

Just as he let his head back up, the front door of the bank opened and two of the outlaws had started to make a run for it. Henry ducked back down as one turned to fire at him but was quick to push past Jonesy and another officer behind the carriage to follow pursuit. 

His spurs clicked under him, his heart racing as he ran after the duo trying to make an escape and found luck in his favor as bullets from the window missed him. Henry slowed for only a second to raise his gun, aim and fire at the running men, first shot, second shot, but the third shot rang out and a man collapsed. 

The other outlaw glanced back as he heard his companion fall, hesitating with the thought to help his fallen partner despite the gunfire but it was far too late. His eyes shot up and found Henry’s, widening in a way that even the lawman could see the whites surrounding sharp green eyes.

Henry knew that face, damn near the same as his with brunette hair but had a beard that would make anyone jealous. The look given was one of recognition, one that made Henry’s heart sink as he ran after him. He was his brother… but he was still a criminal and they both knew it.

“Stop! Put your hands up Kippel!” Henry roared out after him, his gun gripped tightly in his hand and lowered it from his own brother that ran from him to keep chase. His mind raced with his heart and steady beat of boots and spurs, the nauseousness trying to claim him once again as adrenaline and reality sank into him. 

“Don’t make me do this!” Henry pleaded a final time as he followed after him. 

The outlaw whistled out, a dark appaloosa with a white blanket and brown spots lifted his head and shifted. Nostrils flared as he acknowledged the whistle, the maneless stallion nodding his head and started to rush to the older Kippel. The man looked back once at his brother, knowing well that Henry had never feated him in anything, less a race. He threw his arm over the horse’s neck and tossed his leg over the saddle of the stallion, kicking his sides and the white curly tail whipping as the horse turned on his heels. 

“I wont make you do anything!” The older Kippel hollered out, hooting out with premature victory as he kicked his steed sides despite the stallion already scrambling to run under him with a screech. The horse seemed as much of a junkie for the excitement as the Kippel brother was as he threw his head and snorted.

Henry did something neither of them thought he had in him, knowing the race was lost but also knowing what he had to do, as a sheriff, as a lawman. Henry planted his feet and brought his gun up to aim. There was a moment of hesitation before a gunshot rang out and after the trigger was pulled.

Closing his eyes, standing there in the street as horse hooves scraped and skidded to a stop. He swallowed hard, his breath coming in wavered, his body feeling as though someone had lit a fire under him.

The young sheriff lowered his gun slowly, his hands trembling as he cautiously opened his eyes to see with blurry vision. The older Kippel was slouched in the saddle for a moment before collapsing to the brick road with a heavy thump. 

With this outlaw down, nothing else existed in the moment, he couldn’t hear the gunfire and shouts behind him anymore. The only sound he could hear was the blood rushing to his head as his steps were slow at first but hurried as he stepped into a run and to the man on the ground. 

“Robert, Robert!” Henry yelled out, grief and regret hitting him like a locomotive as he approached the body. His aim had been true and the bullet had made a hole square in the man’s back. He grabbed his brother’s shoulders and flipped him onto his back, seeing a lack of life in his brother’s face 

“Why, Robert why!?” Henry demanded to the corpse under him, patting at the man’s face as if refused to answer.

Rage and grief filled the young sheriff as he clenched the dark coat his brother wore, shaking the corpse under him as if it would bring life back to him and give him the answers to the thousand questions he had. It would have been easy to just let his brother ride off, to have refused to pull the trigger but now he had to live with his unspeakable action. If he could have just sat down and talked to him once, even behind bars, maybe he could have changed this outcome. 

His face grew hot with his growing affliction, his teeth bared in a grimace as his face wrinkled in an unsavory expression. For all the demands and questions he had, they were all fruitless to demand from an empty corpse. It could have been anyone else, it should have been anyone else, but it had to be them. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, a sob forcing its way through gritted teeth as his trembling hands clenched the coat.

Henry wiped his tears with the back of his hand, sniffling and swallowing as he forced himself to stand up from his brother’s body. A nicker stole his attention, a white face against a dark coat with ears pressed forward and his head bobbing slightly as Henry acknowledged him. He was no stranger to this stallion, given to his brother a few years before he was given his own, this horse was the same one that Robert had rode out on only a few years ago to start his life as an outlaw. 

The young sheriff collected himself enough to lift the body from the ground, putting him over his shoulder before placing him over the saddle of the horse and lifted the reins over the horse’s head. 

He rubbed the snout of the horse, shushing him quietly for a moment.

“That’s alright Breakdown.” He quietly hushed him, though was mostly comforting himself by his actions. He shook his head, running his hand from his brow to his chin before he started his solemn walk of shame. 

The appaloosa didn’t immediately follow, waiting for the rein to pull tight before he huffed and followed suit after the sheriff with the deadweight on his back. He showed the whites of his eyes and lifted his head high, snorting at the badge that led him despite his familiarity with the younger man.

As Kippel walked up the road and collected himself, Henry realized that the gunfire had indeed stopped. He lowered his head, his eyes focusing on the brick under him as he walked down the street and turned the corner that overlooked the bank where he had been stationed but not thirty minutes ago. 

Bodies were scattered in the street, his officers had two men they were tying to the ground with Jonesy overlooking as he evaluated the damage. The wrinkled face looked up and met the young sheriff’s eyes, his face twisting and showing hidden wrinkles as he started walking up the street to meet him. He didn’t have any wise old cowboy words in the moment.

“He wouldn’t stop.” Henry rasped out as he let go of the reins, lowering his eyes as he swallowed. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a breath, feeling a firm hand on his shoulder and nearly let the tears escape once more. “He wouldn’t stop.” 

The hand squeezed his shoulder and gave him a small shake.

The young sheriff inhaled deeply and brought bloodshot eyes up to his mentor, his jaw clenched as he swallowed. He wasn’t able to hide the pain from his mentor of many years.

“Ye did what ye had to do.” He told him. “Go get Big Boy and take the rest of the day.” 

Henry’s face scrunched, his eyebrows furrowing and a scowl taking over his grief stricken expression.
“I still have a job to do.” Henry replaced the grief with frustration, taking Breakdown’s reins and handing them to Jonesy. “How many men are dead?”

“Ye should-”

“Stop Jonesy, how many men are dead?”

The older man inhaled deeply, nodding slowly as he shifted the reins in his hands and looked back at the post-gunfight down the street. “Twelve of our own, three of theirs. Two of theirs tied up.”

Henry nodded and started to walk past him, a hand catching his shoulder and causing the man to snap his head and bare his teeth at the man with annoyance. 

“What else Jonesy?” 

“...George.” 

Henry’s snarl slowly dropped from his face, his lips tightening as the fact hit him. He had placed George there, knowing how young and inexperienced he was, he had not only put a bullet in his brother, he had put a bullet in every colleague he had placed in and around the bank. The sheriff closed his eyes for a moment, removing his hat as he hung his head. 

“I’m sorry Jonesy…” He whispered. 

Jonesy nodded quietly in acceptance of the apology. “Go find Big Boy.”

Henry nodded, letting out a strained sigh as he started to walk down the road alongside the older man down the street. The street was in shambles, damn near every window of the bank was broken, shells littered the road and fresh blood painted the bricks. It was anyone’s nightmare come to life, but today felt more like a night terror to the sheriff. As he walked through the aftermath, the less it seemed like a reality. All the faces he recognized and worked with scattered on the street, both dead and alive. 

Fortunately, his stallion hadn’t strayed too far and had found his way just past the bank to the train station where the ticket agent had collected and soothed the beast’s nerves in the aftermath. An older gentleman with mutton chops and a uniform, he had seen more than he had bargained for that day.

“Sheriff Kippel.” The man spoke as he walked up, though Henry knew him in passing he wasn’t able to place his name. If he had been able to, it wasn’t in his current state. 

“Thank you. You’re a good man.” Henry muttered as he claimed his horse and mounted, shushing him quietly and patting the horse’s neck as the beast snorted and shook his head. “Atta boy.” He whispered to the horse before claiming the reins and squeezing his thighs to get moving. 

Big Boy under him huffed as if to scold Henry but started moving, feeling the reins were held loosely and decided to walk on his own to a common place- the police department. The city was starting to settle down, whispers of what had happened running down the streets with gossip only interrupted by concerned stares at the sheriff and nods of respect to the man. Henry didn’t have the heart to acknowledge any of them, listening only to the sound of his beast’s hooves against the brick under them.

A heavy sigh escaped him as his horse loyally pulled up to the hitching post, flicking his long tail and letting out a huff as the sheriff dismounted. 

“Easy.” Henry muttered, patting the stallion’s neck that caused a gentle nicker to come from the horse as the man pulled away. His ears turned forward, nearly touching at the tips as he watched his handler step away and into the building. 

Kippel had tunnel vision as he walked past the desk and the row of cells towards his office, pushing the door open and quickly closing it behind him. Taking in a deep breath, he put his full weight on the door, pinched his nose and shut his eyes tightly as he tried to hold back the sob that was forcing its way up his throat. His heart felt as though it shattered in his chest, having saved his father’s bank but at what cost? 

He ran his palm down his face and to his neck, rubbing with his fingers as the room around him blurred in his vision. He let out a weary breath, his legs slowly refusing to hold him up any longer as he sank down the door and to the ground with a rough landing. His chest trembled in time with his hands, his face slowly feeling numb as he couldn’t hold back the hot tears that slid down. 

“Dear God-” He rasped out in a whisper to himself, removing his hat from his head and tossing it aside on the ground as he pressed the back of his head to the door. His eyelids twitched closed, his eyebrows furrowing and his teeth baring in a grimace as a sob left him. 

His brother, he was a criminal, he had seen the posters, he had seen the papers, but he was still his brother. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember a bad bone in his brother’s body, he had looked up to him for so long and now he had put a bullet in his back for an inglorious death. His lips quivered and he had to sniffle to keep snot from draining down his face. 

With a groan, he pulled a napkin from his pocket to try and clear his face despite the tears that continued to fall against his will. As badly as he wanted to sit there for hours in the moment, he had to get himself together sooner than later. He still had a job to do…

His hat returned to his head, swallowing the emotions that had overencumbered him as he brought himself to his feet that threatened to give out under him. Inhaling deeply and composing himself once more as he stood behind his office door, he braced himself for what he would have to face once he opened it. Tightly closing his eyes and stuffing his grief into a hard cocoon in his chest, he gripped the doorknob and turned it, opening his eyes as he opened it and stepped out. 

Commotion echoed in the holding cells, the two outlaws that had been caught being escorted into separate jail cells and at least one wasn’t making the job easy on the officers that manhandled them. Henry stopped for a moment, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched with cold bloodshot eyes as the cell doors were slammed shut and locked. 

“Get ya fuckin’ hands offa me ya damn pig!” 

“Shut the hell up and get in the cell!”

“Ya ain’t takin me that easy!” The thin stached criminal roared, shouldering the cop that dragged him by his arm and spat at the uniform, quickly detained by two other officers that jumped in to manhandle him. He was young and spry, with the spirit of a wild stallion as he still tried to fight the officers despite being outnumbered and at a disadvantage. 

“Would you give it a rest?” The other outlaw seemed just as done with the younger man as the police were, wrinkled and gray with a beer gut and much more compliant as he was put in a cell.

“Not on my life!” The younger one spit and screamed like a wild animal.

Watching the younger man throw his fits and scream out strings of curses made his blood boil, they both should have been the one with bullets in their backs. His jaw clenched and his teeth gritted, tilting his head slightly back as he inhaled deeply. Finally the other criminal was thrown in a cell and the door was slammed shut and locked. A growl escaped the sheriff, licking his teeth with frustration and shifted his hands to his hips but the growl was silenced by the sound of spurs and boots approaching. 

Henry lowered his eyes, not having to see who it was to know who had walked up to him and a firm hand on his shoulder confirming it. 

“This ain’t right.” Henry muttered with a shake of his head.

“Well, the way I figure it, the grass on a prairie.. “

“Save it Jonesy.” The young lawman spoke with venom in his voice. 

The older man lowered his head, shaking it slightly as the young sheriff pulled away from him.

“Open that cell.” Kippel demanded to the officer that had just closed it, taking his jacket off at a gallop, and tossed it aside with his hat following a quick pursuit. The sheriff undid his buckle and dropped his belt that held his holster, the gun dropping heavily on the ground near his abandoned hat and coat.  

The officer snapped his head up and had a look of confusion, glancing at the deputy sheriff as the older man started to step away before complying with the sheriff’s order. The colleague opened the door, creaking at the hinges as he did. 

“Shut it behind me.” Kippel ordered as he stepped in, looking the wild stallion in the eyes with a look of hostility. 

The glare was returned with a scowl and a spit at the ground. 

“Come get ya some.” The man growled out. “Wait til I’m tied up and caged before you make your move.”

“Not today.” Kippel hissed through clenched teeth, hearing the door shut behind him and wide eyes burn into the back of his head. “I’d say we have some shit to even out.” 

Even with restraints, the man kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile once Kippel got close enough. Kippel claimed a cheap shot while the man was restrained, blood spilling from a cracked nose and dazing the man about his own age long enough for the sheriff to get him against the wall and undo the restraints on his hands. 

Once the cuffs hit the hard floor with a clank, the criminal’s eyes widened with excitement, a fire sparking in his belly and blood started pumping. Now they were on even ground and there was no holding back. It was a fight the sheriff wanted, and it was a fight the sheriff would get. Kippel felt an elbow claim his jaw, dazing him for a moment but not a moment too soon for the sheriff to get a handful of hair and slam the stranger’s face against the brick wall of the cell. 

The man spun at his heels, hissing like a snake and teeth bared like a wild coyote as he threw a fist at the sheriff’s face. The impact drew  more blood from the sheriff, the damage he had done to the criminal’s nose had been returned. Both men were young, spry, fired-up and stubborn, both holding onto rage and letting loose on each other.

Kippel spent his short time in the cell taking out the anguish he had replaced with rage on the criminal, and must have thrown as many blows as he had received. No swing was too cheap between tooth and nail as officers and criminals outside the cell alike yelled at the two, but no one dared to try to intervene. All of it was just white noise to the sheriff, his ears ringing and his at the moment his adrenaline and rage had made him feel as if he could take on the world.  

Neither of them were going to give a fair fight and neither of them would walk away unscathed.