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“Texas plates. Could be a rental. You boys strapped up?”
They both nod and show me their guns.
“All right, let’s find these poachers. Trent, you stay with me. Ranger and Decker, you guys go to the south end of the pasture. If you see them, call out.”
We break up and start to scour the pasture and surrounding tree line.
“You seeing anything?” Trent rides up next to me.
“I see some shoe prints here in this mud. I doubt that would be from our guys, since they wouldn’t have a need to be on the ground over here.”
We spend the next two hours searching, but there’s no sign of them. It’s nearly dusk and it’s dangerous to be out here with potential poachers.
Ranger and Decker approach. “Hey guys, we gotta call it. Too dangerous to be out here once the sun’s gone down.”
“They probably spotted us and they’re just waiting it out,” Ranger says when I see what I think is movement across the pasture.
“Hold it,” I say. “I think I might have spotted something.”
Trent narrows his eyes. “Yup, that’s someone. Let’s go.”
“Trent!” I yell after him, but he’s already in a gallop. “Trent, it’s not safe!” I shout as I heel Misty to take off after him.
I barely get her up to speed when I hear a shot ring out and feel a white-hot heat in my chest. I grip the saddle, but it’s no use. I fall backward off Misty, who takes off in a startled sprint.
I stare up at the orangey-pink sky, struggling to catch my breath with the force of hitting the ground.
“Tyler! Tyler!” I hear someone screaming my name.
I try to sit up, but the pain is blinding. I reach my hand up to my upper shoulder and it hits something warm and wet. I pull my hand away, confused, and that’s when I see it’s covered in blood.
My head is getting heavier, swimming in confusion as I blink. It feels like my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds each, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep them open.
“Tyler, stay with me.” Trent’s blurry face appears over me as his hands press down hard on my chest.
I try to push him off, still so confused about what’s going on.
“What happ—happ?” My teeth clatter together and I can’t get the words out as a cold chill takes over my body.
The last thing I remember is hearing Trent yell, “Call 911! He’s been shot!”
