I have never been one to cower fearful odds, in the face of danger I often stood my ground. Unfortunately though that changed on one fall night in October. I will give you a little background information first, before starting. I was raised in small town in Missouri. We had own farm until my parents got a divorce. My dad moved away, and my mother and I moved to an apartment in town. It sucked. I missed the woods, and better yet I missed our animals, so I would often go with my cousins out to their property. One of our most favorite pass times was “night hunting”, we would go out with our 22’s trying to kill some coyotes.
At the time I was 14 and carrying my Henry 22 lever action. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to kill coyotes. My cousins(who were both 3 years older than I) had their semiautomatic 22 rifles. Me being the cowboy that I am, I had the most skill in tracking( this will come in handy latter). So we set out from our camp in the field. All packing at least 15o rounds on our horses. The horses sensed things that we couldn’t, and before we set out they were already jumpy. It was roughly about 9:oo, when we left the sun had already set and it was pitch black.