Page 13 of Chasing Kaylee Kringle

Kid? He was too dazed to fully understand until they hollered, “The goat! Let the goat go!”

The big goat reared above him, and Rick closed his eyes, waiting for the hooves to slice through his face.

Nothing came, and when he opened one eye, the goat was gone. In its place was Kaylee, wrestling with the irate animal.

“Let the baby go,” she grunted between pants, “and he will follow his mom.”

Rick did what she said, and the goat struggled to his feet before launching himself off Rick’s chest. The sharp kicks exacerbated his shortness of breath as he lay on the ground, wheezing. Kaylee released the mama, who bleated and chased after the baby.

“You good?” she asked, bent over with her hands on her knees, sucking in air.

He flashed her a thumbs-up, and her lips curved into a small smile, which hit him right in the solar plexus.

“I guess neither one of us is taking up goat tail tying,” he said.

“What is that?”

“Like mutton busting, but with goats.”

“Are you concussed?” she asked, leaning in closer. “Because I do not understand anything coming out of your mouth.”

Rick flopped back against the ground, his chest burning from the pain and sucking in the cold air. “Sheep riding, you ninny.”

“Did you just call me a ninny?”

He nodded. “Give me a break. I almost died.”

Kaylee laughed. “Naw, maybe a few hoof print dents in your forehead, but you would have survived.” She held her hand down to him, and he took it, gingerly getting to his feet. “Unfortunately.”

Rick ignored her jab and winced as he straightened up. “Is this a common occurrence here?”

“What?”

Rick waved his hand toward the goats. “Chasing down a murder of goats attacking a churchyard.”

“About once a month. The goat with the baby Jesus is Licorice. He uses his horns to weaken the fence, and they run amok. It’s usually not this many.” Kaylee stroked her chin. “Also, I’m pretty sure it’s a flock, not a murder. Crows come in a murder.”

Suddenly, a flash of black and white flew past them from nowhere, and a high crescendo of rapid barking echoed across the churchyard. A long-haired dog circled the goats, snapping and snarling at their heels until they clumped together and ran as one unit toward the sidewalk. The officers stepped into the street, waving on passing cars and giving the herding dog a wide berth as it flitted about, keeping the goats in line.

“Nice job, Chip!” A gravelly voice praised, and a grizzled, stooped man in a cowboy hat waved from a block down the road. “Thanks for all your help. Sorry about the mess.”

The goats ran toward the old man, the dog hot on their heels, a herd of brown and black, bleating and barking, echoing through the churchyard, growing softer the farther away they got.

There was straw everywhere, covering the lawn, and several officers were trying to place the Virgin Mary upright. A man in a flannel shirt held the baby Jesus, cradling the broken doll in one arm and holding the detached leg in his hand. “Baby Jesus needs surgery!”

Officer Paulette rolled her eyes and snatched the leg from him, turning her back to Rick as she worked on fixing it.

While they stood next to each other out of earshot of the others, Rick swiveled toward Kaylee. “Speaking of murder, you know that if you don’t testify, there is no guarantee that they’ll leave you alone.”

Kaylee stared straight ahead, and he thought for a moment she was going to ignore him, until finally, she whispered, “It’s worked so far. And if I do testify, they’ll definitely hunt me down.”

“I’ll never let that happen.”

Kaylee sighed, turning to face him with enormous, glistening eyes. “Please, go away.”

“You know I can’t.”

Paulette joined them, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Sorry about the detour. Let’s get to the station and sort this all out.”