She stepped into the back yard and took her place in the lawn chair that faced the hills. She opened her book and read in the waning sun. It was a calm afternoon, typical of California’s fertile Salinas Valley. Warm, peaceful, with a light breeze from the west. The fog had not had a chance to spoil the warmth of the afternoon. She didn’t notice it as the breeze fluttered the pages of her book. The yard was a small, cultivated, lush area that abutted a field of brown grass. Only the area in the immediate vicinity of the house was kept neat. The yard gave way to the wide open expanse of the ranch. The view was of the gentle rolling hills of the Gabilan Range. These golden hills waved their grass carpet in the fading light.
Her little dog disturbed her reading. He had brought her an old tennis ball, one of many that littered the ranch, and had dropped it at her feet. He knew she would pick it up. She always did. She took no notice. But after a little whine from him, she threw it into the dry shrub grass. He trotted off after it. She smile as she watched him and his pleasure in the chase.
The front door of the house opened and shut. She turned away from her book and saw her husband through the glass. The dog charged through the open door to greet his master. She went back to her reading.
The light finally faded to dusk. She left her chair and entered the warm kitchen. She pulled out what was cooking in the oven. The phone rang once, twice, then she heard him pick it up. She finished preparing the rest of his meal while her husband whispered into the receiver in the other room.
“ Dammit to all hell” Her husband said as he entered the kitchen.
“Oh, you startled me”
“Sorry” He said sheepishly. “John has screwed up on the seed order again.”
“Again?” as she placed the potatoes in the serving dish.
“Yeah, and we have to start the lettuce crop next week.” He waited for her reaction and got none.
“I’ll go down there later and fix it.”
He waited for a reply but she was busy setting the meal on the table and had none. He sat down at his place. Like usual, it was set for a causal evening meal. He listened to her hum as she finished gathering the last of the fixings. He gazed out the window while he waited. He could barely see the Gabilans now. The flaxen hills had faded to a gilded grey. The evening star was bright on the horizon and a full harvest moon started to peak over the horizon.
He turned on the evening news as she brought the food to the table. They ate silently as the TV droned in the background. She occasionally dropped tidbits on the floor to the waiting little dog. He was sitting directly beneath her waiting expectantly for his usual share of the meal.
“That damn dog will get fat, if you keep spoiling him.”
"You’re probably right.” She looked at the dog with an apologetic smile. “No more for you, tonight.”
Somehow the little dog knew that his part of the meal was over. He laid his head down on his front paws and forlornly watched them finish. The meal was completed quickly and quietly.
“I’d better get back to the office.” He got up from the table. “I won’t be gone long.”
“All right.” She removed the dishes from the table.
He followed her into the kitchen, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and was gone. The house was silent again. The little dog broke the silence with a little pleading whine. She smiled and gave him a bone that was much too large for him. He gladly took it and slipped out the back door to secrete his treasure.
With the dishes done, she retired into the living room. She sat in her chair by the window with her book. The warm light from the lamp bathed the yellowed pages. Page after page she read. The full moon rose in the sky.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek filled the night air. She froze, startled by the horrible, inhuman sound. The cruel shriek continued, loud and painful to the ear. She shot up from her chair, the book falling to the ground. She ran to the back door and into the yard. The scream had stopped by the time she was in the yard. The lights, activated by her presence, shone into the eyes of a coyote. She stared into his eyes as he stood there defiantly over the body of the little dog.
Then, like a shot, she charged at the animal. Stunned, he took a long moment to react to her advance. But, recovering, he quickly turned tail and began to retreat. The lights of the house confused him. She still advanced. He fled but found himself trapped between a fence and the house. He turned to see her bearing down at him with her arms outstretched. He bared his teeth as she dove for him. He tried to escape but her fingers grasped his fur with a vice grip. He was pinned against the wall and the weight of her body. He struggled to get free from her grip. Desperately, he turned and bit at her drawing blood from her forearm. She tightened her grasp on the struggling animal. The coyote, now full of fear, bit at her again but could not break her choke hold.
He yelped and struggled in a panic to escape. He ripped the skin off her leg. She did not cry out in pain. Instead, abruptly, she sunk her teeth into his neck. The animal, wide eyed, could not escape and howled in pain. Her teeth sunk further into his skin. Blood dripped from her mouth. She did not relent. He struggled in a panic. The blood dripped from her chin onto the cement. Her nails dug into his flesh. The animal struggled with all his strength. He howled out, begging the moon to hear him. It just stared back. The animal gave a last cry and finally became limp. As the animal fell, hands grabbed at her from behind and yanked her off the dead animal.
“Stop it, Stop it, for God’s sake stop it” her husband hoarsely yelled as her dragged her away from the animal.
She sat there on the cement, now pooled with blood, silent. Her husband, panting, looked at her incredulously. She sat, starring off into nothing. The faint glow of the full moon made the blood dripping from her mouth and her wounds appear moist and black.
“My God,” he shouted in a whisper, “What happened to you? What . . .? Why did you. . .?”
No response. Nothing. Just silence filled the air. In the distance, you could hear the hum of the irrigation systems watering the nearby fields. She stared into the night a moment longer and suddenly her trance broke. She looked at the coyote and then away. Her husband just watched her. No expression was found on her face. She stood, a little unsteady at first. He moved to help her but her hand blocked him. She leaned her hand on his chest and steadied herself for a moment, looking down at the stained cement. She turned and looked into his eyes. A small frown furrowed her brow as she confronted his bewildered stare. She then turned away from him and walked over to the little dog. She carefully wrapped him in his arms and calmly entered the house. The hum of the irrigation pumps continued to disturb the nights silence obediently unaware.
