A wealthy rancher passed away and left his entire ranch to his beautiful, devoted wife. She loved the place and was determined to keep it running, but there was one problem: she knew almost nothing about ranching.

So she placed an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.

Only two men applied. One was a heavy drinker, and the other was a gay cowboy with years of ranching experience.

After thinking it over, she hired the gay cowboy, figuring he would be safer and more reliable around the house.

And she was right.

He worked from sunrise to sunset, fixed fences, handled cattle, repaired equipment, and slowly brought the ranch back to life.

After several weeks, the widow said, “You’ve done a wonderful job. Take Saturday night off, go into town, and enjoy yourself.”

He happily agreed.

Midnight passed. He didn’t return.

One o’clock passed. Still nothing.

Finally, around two-thirty, he walked in and found the widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine.

She looked at him and said softly, “Come here.”

He stepped closer.

“Unbutton my blouse and take it off.”

Nervously, he obeyed.

“Now my boots.”

He removed them carefully.

“Now my socks… my skirt… and my bra.”

Trembling, he did exactly as she asked.

Then she leaned forward and said:

“If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired.”