Well, for one I appreciate the OP's story.
When I was 11 (1972), I broke my leg riding a dirt-bike. This was in the East Texas woods near Broaddus. I'm talking remote.
My 8-year old sister and 9-year old female cousin went back to the house (Honda 50's), several miles away down country dirt roads to get my mom. My 10-year-old male cousin and
an 11 year-old friend stayed with me on their dirt bikes (Honda SL70).
On the way back to the house, my sister and cousin were confronted by a man blocking the road with a vehicle. My sister and cousin said that he had a small boy with him, crying, and the man was holding a pistol. He ordered them to stop.
The girls turned around and fled to where I was laying with a broken leg and told us what happened. My 10-year-old cousin went with them and headed back toward the house. The vehicle, man, and boy were gone.
A while later, my mom and uncle arrived with the '72 Buick station wagon. At about that same time, a couple of early 20ish young men rode up on horses. They were amiable and helpful in getting me loaded into the station wagon for the 40 or so mile trip to Lufkin & a hospital. For some reason my uncle was spooked. He sent my mom in his station wagon to take me to the hospital, and said he was going to accompany the other kids home on my Honda.
Within months, the story of The CandyMan and the Houston Mass Murders broke. When Dean Corll's picture was shown on tv, my sister screamed. (She is still traumatized by thoughts of what happened to that young boy all these decades later). When we saw Elmer Wayne Henley's photo, we all recognized him as one of the young men on horse back.
They recovered over a dozen mutilated bodies of young boys within a half of mile of where we were.
God was definitely with us that day or we would have been victims - like so many others.
I didn't have a gun, but I probably had a knife. I don't think it would have done much good.
Wow, that's one hell of a story.
