One of the hardest occupations in the world was believed to be working on a ranch. The days seemed to go on forever, and the weather was usually not cooperative. That was a labor-intensive life, and most would cower at the sheer enormity of the task.
But there was a story that gave the everyday grind a hilarious twist deep in rancher country.
A wealthy rancher had died, leaving his faithful wife in charge of his cherished property. Despite her remarkable appearance and her determination to continue her husband’s history, she was ill-versed in the nuances of ranching. She made the resolute decision to post an ad looking for a ranch hand in the local newspaper.
The job posting attracted two cowboys. One of them was a well-known heavy drinker, and the other was openly gay.
The widow considered her options, measuring the benefits and drawbacks carefully. She took a stand when no other contenders expressed interest in running. She decided to recruit the gay cowboy because she thought it would be a safer decision for the ranch and her than to deal with the erratic behaviour of the drunkard.
To everyone’s astonishment, the new ranch hand turned out to be a hard worker who put in long hours each day and shown extensive ranching knowledge. Under his direction, the ranch flourished, and the widow felt glad that she had made the right decision.
The ranch operated well as the weeks stretched into months. One day, the widow, impressed by his work, felt her hired hand earned a vacation.
On one occasion, she informed him, “You’ve done an excellent job.” “You ought to go out and have fun while you’re here.”
The ranch hand accepted without hesitation, and on a Saturday evening he headed into town in hopes of unwinding.
The hours passed by as the night went on. At the stroke of one, two, and still no sign of the hired man. The widow worriedly waited for him to arrive.
At last, at approximately two-thirty in the morning, the ranch hand came back. When he walked in the door, he saw the widow of the rancher sitting by the fireplace, drinking a glass of wine and staring at him.
With a gentle and seductive voice, she beckoned him over. “Take off my blouse and unbutton it.”
He complied with her orders trembling. She mumbled, “Now, take off my boots.”
With great care and slowness, he moved them to be by the chair. “Please remove my socks now.”
He took off each sock with quivering hands and arranged them neatly next to the boots. The fire was flickering, creating a dim light in the room that cast shadows on her face. Her voice was scarcely audible above a whisper as she continued, “Now, take off my skirt.”
He undid her skirt while keeping his gaze fixed on her, engrossed in the flickering flames. “Now, please remove my bra,” she murmured.
He obeyed, lowering the bra to the ground with trembling hands. She responded, “You’re fired if you ever wear my clothes into town again,” as she met his intense gaze.