Her Husband’s Hands

She loved his hands. She loved the thought of them, the feel of them, the look of them. They were a man’s hands, a working man. They were tanned from working in the sun for thirty odd years, and the tops were cracked from the dryness of the Arizona heat. The palms were surprisingly supple and felt like satin to her touch.

Ruth loved her man and loved his hands. They spoke of his character. He worked hard, but he was a gentle man. He planted crops, vegetables near the house where she could tend to them. The fruit trees were farther out in the fields so the fruit flies wouldn’t be near the house.

He could shear the sheep, gathering each one up and shaving it in no time flat. He plowed the fields and reaped the hay by hand. At night, for their amusement, he played his guitar. That guitar gave them many pleasant nights.

His hands had built the outbuildings. His hands had helped to build the house and the barn. His hands had hunted food for their table.

Those same hands had held her hands while they danced at their wedding. They had held each of their three children. They had held her close to his heart as each of those three children had left.

On the thirty-first year living on the farm, there was a threat to their way of life. This threat was sneaky and sly. This threat could tear them up and leave them for dead. This threat was all around the farm. They could hear them in the night, talking to each other and getting closer.

People were becoming more citified and had stopped hunting for their food. People went to the grocery store. People had pleasant evenings in their home.

People were not keeping the wildlife at bay anymore. The wildlife was getting more friendly with humans. People began to feel sorry for animals instead of seeing them as food. They put out food for them. They put out salt licks to draw the wildlife closer to their homes.This was good for the wildlife but bad for the people.

It wasn’t just deer and other cute animals that were getting closer. Animals with vicious teeth and even more vicious appetites were getting closer every day. They weren’t eating the crops. They weren’t interested in vegetables. They were interested in flesh. Just last month a coyote had attacked a deer at the neighbor’s salt lick in broad daylight.

Coyotes are supposed to hunt at night. Everyone knows that — everyone but that coyote.

He ripped that beautiful deer into ribbons. Ruth knew all about wildlife and how they eat each other and all, but this coyote wasn’t hunting for food. Most of the deer was left around the yard. The head landed on Mrs. Garber’s back stoop. She screamed something terrible when she saw it. She nearly fainted right there in the middle of the guts in the yard.

Yesterday afternoon that coyote showed up in Ruth’s yard. Now, Ruth doesn’t have any salt licks, so they don’t have many deer stop by. Besides, they’ve got old Hank tied up out there. Hank had hunted with her husband for most of his life.

Hank was getting old and had a touch of the rheumatism, so he wasn’t much good for hunting anymore. It didn’t matter, though. Old Hank was part of the family.

Hank didn’t just hunt, he had helped to keep the children from wandering off when they were playing outside. It was the darndest thing. He would herd those children like they were sheep. He always kept a close eye on them. Ruth never needed to worry.

That coyote, Ruth was pretty sure it was the same one, came into the yard and headed straight for old Hank. Hank was putting up a good fight when Ruth came to see what the commotion was all about.

When she saw it, Ruth didn’t stop to think. She did what she would’ve done if Hank was one of her children. She ran out with her broom still in her hands and commenced to beating that coyote with all she had.

That coyote didn’t much like having his head beaten with a broom, so he turned to Ruth. He figured he’d take care of her then finish with old Hank.

Lucky for Ruth her husband was just coming in from the fields. He started running like he was racing the wind. See he loved Ruth, and he had spent a good many years with her. I reckon he wanted to spend a good many more.

He positioned himself between Ruth and that coyote, and commenced to wrestling with it. The whole thing didn’t take long. No man is a match for a coyote in a bare-fisted fight.

Ruth doesn’t know if the coyote thought he was being funny or not, but he left both of her husband’s hands on her back stoop.

Mrs. Garber did faint that day, and Doc Edwards had to be called. It took him quite a while to bring her around.

Ruth decided to move to Philadelphia with her oldest daughter, Miriam. Ruth hasn’t ever lived in the big city, but she figures it’ll be better than dealing with coyotes, and Miriam’s husband even built a nice house for old Hank to live out his days.

She doesn’t want to see anything that reminds her of her husband’s hands that she loved so much. The only way she can see them now is the way they looked on her back stoop.

Once in a while she screams in the night because she dreams of her wedding day. In that dream she is dancing with her husband, but when she looks down at his hands, they are bloody and jagged from being ripped off his arms. She wakes screaming with sweat pouring from her like rain off a duck, then Miriam has to come in and hold her and rock her and tell her everything will be okay. Ruth isn’t so sure.

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