Buck Fifty — P.J. Hoge

The seven-year-old boy went over a small rise to an old run-down farm surrounded by untrimmed trees and overgrown weeds. The barn was mostly collapsed and the roof of the house has a gaping hole on one end. He went around the house to the side window. Brushing the weeds aside, he tried to peek over the decaying windowsill. It was too high for him, so he moved a big rock over and stood on it to peer through the filthy glass. Everything was covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs except for a newer cot with a blanket and a backpack. On the table was a plate with a few eggs, a bucket and glass of milk. Next to that was a First Aid kit, a revolver and a box of shells. He had found the poachers hideout! He froze with fear. CJ swallowed very hard. He hadnt thought this far ahead. What should he do? The poacher could be murderer. Thats when CJ felt a mans hand squeezing his shoulder. His eyes opened wide and his mouth came open, but nothing came out. A mans deep voice asked gruffly, Whatcha doin, kid?