True Crime- Barn Style: The Finale

Kit, the pygmy goat, had never felt as if she fit in at the barn. Although she had been born there nearly 8 years ago, she often felt like an outsider. Her eyes glowed yellow in the near blackness. The only other distinguishable feature aside from her familiar tawny eyes were two bulky horns breaching the top of her skull. They rose straight up from the topmost part of her head and arched backwards abruptly. Ringo shuddered as he conjured a mental image of dark creatures with yellow eyes and horns.


Standing next to Kit, was a stranger. Flat, black eyes- without depth or even soul stared up at the accidental voyeur perched above them. The mouse allowed his thin, scraggly muzzle to move into a sneer revealing stained, crooked teeth. As his lips pulled back from his teeth, the faint sound of a hiss escaped them. He was extending his hand toward the goat and Ringo noticed the unkempt, messy state of his coat. This was no ambassador of good will. Clutched in his outstretched hand was an item Ringo had only seen a few times before. But his tidy raccoon mind was masterful at cataloging and arranging things- both items and memories. He shuffled the file drawers of his memory and nearly instantly recognized it as a book of matches.

As if on a directors "Action!" cue from a movie set, the intruder dropped his bounty just as the raccoon sprang into action. The intruder began backing further into the shadows of the feed room- into the corner farthest from the doors. Ringo struggled to follow his movement as he could find no reflection of light in the flat, dark eyes. The mouse simply faded into the blackness and then he was gone. Ringo sprinted from his high station down the beam to the opposite side of the barn, scrambled his way down the nearest stall front, and landed on the concrete floor. Only the thud of his impact attested that he had dispensed with his usual attempts at grace.

Ringo sprinted to the feed room. His haunches propelling him forward, he ran the length of the aisle. When raccoons run as such, they quite resemble the jilted lope of a bear- driven forward by powerful thrusts from their hindquarters. The horses immediately knew this was no normal pace for the raccoon. He had purpose and direction to his frantic run across the barn.

The horses in the stalls reacted to the sudden change in atmosphere. Moments ago dozing, or quietly waiting, there was now a low din of voices.

"Ringo, what is it?"

“Mother, who's running in the barn?”

“Are we allowed to run in the barn?"

"Oh no, I knew something like this would happen."

"Is it feeding time already?"

Male and female voices joined together to create a choir of horses. The chorus sounded unpracticed and off-key, all talking at once but none in harmony with the other.

Ringo reached the base of the feed room door and strained to listen inside. It had been difficult to hear their low murmurs when the barn was wrapped in silence. Now, it would be impossible. The horse chorus continued to mount until now, it was all around him. Someone whinnied- and it caused a chain reaction.

Ringo knew he would have to enter the feed room to confront the goat. He tried to push the sliding door away from the opening to gain entry. Although he pushed with his full weight, his hands were small and he was not able to move the door aside. It was designed to withstand an assault from hands such as his.

As he was contemplating his next move- he strained again to listen through the solid wooden door. Placing his head against the rough hewn wood, he maneuvered his ear so that it lay against the door flat. Then he heard a sound which would spark terror in the hearts of every animal in the barn. It was a rough sound, scratching and rasping. It sounded of flint or bone- concrete and matches. It was the sound of someone trying to strike one of the matches.

Ringo flew into action. He had told the people of the barn goodnight hours ago. He knew that he could depend on them in any emergency but they were not here. He could hear his Mother's voice saying "Goodnight, Ringo- you're in charge until I get back!” Only he had the freedom to do what would need to be done. But what could he- a mere raccoon do? He was just the organizer of the barn- he was not prepared for the magnitude of what was about to happen there. And then, images of the humans and their love for the animals flooded his well-trained mind. He envied the humans- was this what made them so enviable. They would not hesitate to be heroes and help the animals. He knew what choice they would make if they were here wearing his fur now.

Deciding that he could not penetrate the door of the feed room, Ringo knew his only other option was to enter from above the room. Without care for his own safekeeping at this point, he raced to the stall front directly behind him. It belonged to Dani, a handsome long-legged redhead mare. She anxiously watched as he hoisted his weight higher and higher to reach the truss. He reached the truss and struggled to move out over the open span of the barn- balancing on it. Before where he had appeared graceful, now in his frenetic pace, he wobbled back and forth precariously as he rushed to the open space above the feed room.

Once he was positioned directly above the feed room, he looked for something soft to brace his fall. He was going to have to free fall the 20 foot distance onto the concrete floor and for a brief moment, debated his new found role as savior.

Kit, the goat, had been unaware of the commotion above her as she was using her 10 inch horns, head down to the ground, to attempt to strike a flame from the match book below her. She had rotated her horns to the ground, chin to her chest, and was using the bony protrusions like a camper may use a flint against a stone. With each repetition, she created a spark in the empty night. With each spark, she was much closer to igniting her source. Seeing nothing else which might break his fall, he crossed himself in the tradition of a religious rite, gave his best "Bonzai!" call, and proceeded to drop directly on the goat below him.

From the horse’s vantage point, Ringo's descent into the feed room took much longer than from Ringo's perspective. Chevy watched him take a deep breath, heard his best kamikaze cry, and saw the raccoon launch himself from the highest point of the ceiling with the grace of a Brazilian cliff diver. As the raccoon free fell in to the feed room, the clamor of the barn ceased and there was a moment of complete silence. Then, pandemonium broke loose from inside the closed room.

Squeals, hisses, bleats and sounds which could not be defined mixed with the din of bodies being flung against wooden walls. The reverberation of the melee playing out before them resonated in every wall of the barn. After what must have been seconds but seemed to commence in slow motion, there was an eerie silence. Then there was the sound of labored breathing and nothing more.

When the humans entered the barn at daylight several hours later, they were greeted by the typical scene of nickers, small whinnies, and the clamor of hungry horses. All appeared to the human eye as if it had been an uneventful evening. And then they opened the feed room door. Ringo sat quietly in the feed room possessively holding the match book in his hands. The goat sat in the opposite corner of the room, sullenly staring at the wall and chewing her cud. Strewn about the floor of the room were chunks of gray and black hair- both Ringo and Kit have fur the exact same color- so it was undistinguishable to the human eye, which pieces belonged to which animal.

Ringo's Mother gave him a disapproving look and snatched the matchbook from his hands. "Ringo, you must never, ever have these in the barn. You could hurt yourself and everyone else. I am so disappointed in you." She picked him up by the fur at the back of his neck- as she had thousands of times since he was a kit himself and placed him in her arms. He placed his arms around her neck and held on very tight. He was trembling slightly and she looked at him closely. "Ringo, you haven't hugged me that tight since you were a little raccoon. Whatever got into you?" She held him closely, the way she used to when he was younger and they sat silently for a moment. "Well, you are still in trouble for taking matches and being in the feed room but I love you anyway," she said as she walked him to the office to offer his breakfast.

Kit walked out of the feed room as Khris and Ringo walked down the aisle toward the office. She glanced over her shoulder at the pair as Ringo stared back at her. "Blah," she said. The horses watched her stroll down the aisle and outside to explore the paddocks for the day. She gave off an unaffected air which did not reveal any clues to her train of thought.

As Ringo passed by Chevy's stall, Chevy asked quietly "Dude, what happened?"

Ringo answered slowly, "Kit was planning a surprise birthday party for herself. We didn’t even know that yesterday was her birthday. She was going to have a giant birthday cake with candles- just like the little girls at the birthday party here in the barn last year. She bribed a mouse from the house to bring her matches and was going to light her candles herself."

Chevy thought for a moment and knew the implications of her actions. In his uncomplicated manner, he asked, “Well, do you think we should we give her a party today? I like birthday cake. And I like parties, too.”

Ringo blinked slowly and contemplated the question. One truth was certain to him, goats held grudges and he had ruined her plan and her party of one. He would not be sleeping quietly as long as there was a goat in the barn with a grudge.
The End.