There once was a successful rancher who died and left everything to his devoted wife. The widow was determined to keep the ranch and make a go of it. But she knew she couldn't do it by herself, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.

Times were hard, but only two men applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk. She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied, she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring he would be more dependable and it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.

He turned out to be fantastic worker; he worked long hard hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks the two of them worked very hard, and everything on the ranch was doing really well.

One day the rancher's wife said to the hired hand, "You have done a really good job and the ranch looks great. You should go into town and
kick up your heels. You've earned it." The hired hand agreed readily, and on Saturday night he went to town.

One o'clock came and he didn't return. Two o'clock and no hired hand. She began to be concerned. At two-thirty, in came the hired hand.

The rancher's widow was sitting by the fireplace and quietly called him
over to her.

"Unbutton my blouse and take it off", she said.

Trembling, he did as she asked.

"Now take off my boots." He did so, slowly.

"Now take off my socks." He did.

"Now take off my skirt." He did.

"Now take off my bra." Again, with trembling hands, he did as she asked.

"Now," she said, "take off my panties." Still trembling, he slowly pulled them down.
Then she looked at him and said, "Don't you ever wear my clothes to town again."