Super-soft, ultra-quiet and incredibly tough. Won't collect burrs, seeds and other clingy vegetation.
Hanna stood in the middle of my living room modeling her new orange hunting vest while I glanced at Elaine and read the tag.
Blood-proof rear game bag with zipper for easy loading.
Hanna, Elaine and I were all members of a new Christian club, Senior Singles. There had been a few get-togethers where we three had attended , the most recent, a trip to Biltmore House. The lovely gardens were such a treat for me. Elaine loved the antiques. We both had been widowed for a few years and were satisfied with the company of our friends. It was different for Hanna. She had been widowed as well, for the third time, a few months back. But, she was never going to be satisfied having tea and shopping with us. No, Hanna needed a man in her life.
“Liz, does it make me look fat? You know how hard I work at keeping my figure.”
“Hanna, you could never look fat! Maybe me or Liz, but never you. When's the last time you ate a piece of bread?” Elaine thought everyone was better off consuming farmhand-sized meals and carrying some weight.
“Since you brought it up...you might try pushing back a little. Men like their women thin.”
“I'm not chasing men, Hanna! You would think there was a sale on them the way you go on!”
“Ladies, please. We agreed to help Hanna suit up. If she wants to go on this hunting trip, then we should be helping her. And no one's fat...a little chunky maybe. Now, turn around Hanna and let's have a look.”
Hanna added her bright-orange stocking cap and pulled up bright-orange bib overalls. Adjustable elastic suspender straps with quick-release buckles. That should come in handy. Even svelte Hanna must answer to the demands of a senior bladder.
“Hanna, this states that this outfit has total scent-control...prevents your odors from escaping and spooking game,” Elaine giggled. She was trying hard to get Hanna's dander up.
“It's all right, Hanna. I don't think they are talking about Chanel No. 5. You look positively...fetching, for a hunter, that is.”
I unlocked the gun cabinet and took out the Browning .270 Magnum Stalker. Sam's rifle had been locked away for years. But, he had always said it was the gun to get the job done and Hanna had a job to do. Husband hunting counts, doesn't it? I hoped so.
“Hanna, do you even know how to shoot a gun? You could kill someone!” Elaine shook her head and stared at me giving me the Have you gone mad look.
“Oh, she's not taking real bullets, Elaine. She has a box of blanks. For safety, you see.”
“You don't think I could kill a defenseless animal? Really, Elaine!”
Very early the next morning I drove Hanna to the Springfield Hunt Club to meet with the other Senior Singles. Elaine and I had volunteered to serve lunch for the participating shooters.
Hanna looked every bit the part of a seasoned hunter. Dressed in orange head-to-toe and sporting the rifle, she looked to me as if she were on a Rocky Mountain big-game hunt. Elaine had told her she looked like a cross between Elmer Fudd and Rambo.
“What game are they hunting?” I asked the organizer who was setting up for a meeting in the clubhouse.
“Game? It's a Skeet event.”
“What? You mean Skeet as in clay pigeons? As in, shoot a skeet rifle from a protected area, no orange clothes needed, dress to impress, skeet? ”
“Yes, of course. Skeet.”
“Elaine, we have to save her! She'll be the laughing stock of the club! She's got a .270 magnum rifle for heaven's sake! With blanks! She's covered head-to-toe in bright orange, armed for bear and they're shooting clay pigeons! Hurry!”
We met Hanna on her way to the clubhouse. She was on the arm of a distinguished white-haired gentleman, fully gazing up into his bright-blue eyes as she walked toward us.
“Oh, Liz, Elaine. How nice to see you. Isn't it just the most beautiful day for an outing?”
“Hello, ladies. I'm Jim Wright. Nice to meet you.”
The grin on Hanna's face said it all. She had bagged Mr. Wright.
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