TW: Joke soo long....A cowboy rides up to a farmhouse about five miles out of town and calls out "Hey! Is this the Snodgrass place?"
. The door opens. A woman, the right side of forty but looking tired and careworn before her time, answers the door. "It sure is, stranger. Why'd you ask?"
"Word in town was that there was a widow out this way needed a man to do the heavy lifting for a spell," says the cowboy, "an' I figure I could use a break from punching cows."
She looks him up and down. He looks kinda tired too. "I can't pay much," she warns him, "and you'll sleep in the barn. But you'll eat three times a day, and folks in town will maybe have said I can cook pretty good. What should I call you, drifter?"
"Smith," he says. "Smith's a good name."
Days go by and turn into weeks. From time to time the Widow Snodgrass watches from the doorway as Drifter Smith goes about his chores, sometimes with his shirt off if the day's hot. He takes his meals on the porch, not in the house; but she sets a table for him with a little checked cloth, and the meals are good, and she watches him trudge off to the barn last thing at night where he'll sleep good and deep on piled straw.
One night Drifter Smith says he's going into town to take care of some business. The Widow doesn't ask what that business might be. It's late, awfully late, when he gets back; but there's a light burning in the window when he comes, and as he's getting off his horse the door opens and she's standing there, back-lit by the faint glow from inside the house. "Come in here, Drifter Smith," she says in a tiny voice.
He goes in the farmhouse and closes the door behind him with the softest of clicks. Her eyes seem to burn in the lamplight and her voice trembles a mite. "Smith," she says, "take off my coat."
He does as she says. Then she says, "Smith, take off my shoes." And he does as she says.
He carries on doing as she says, while she tells him, in a voice increasingly unsteady, to take off her dress, her slip, her stockings, her garter-belt... and at the last she stutters a little as she says, "Smith, take off my... my underthings."
And he does as he says, and she's standing there before him unable to say another word, until at last she manages to blurt out:
"and, Drifter Smith, if you ever go into town wearing my clothes again, I'll fire you without notice!".
"Word in town was that there was a widow out this way needed a man to do the heavy lifting for a spell," says the cowboy, "an' I figure I could use a break from punching cows."
She looks him up and down. He looks kinda tired too. "I can't pay much," she warns him, "and you'll sleep in the barn. But you'll eat three times a day, and folks in town will maybe have said I can cook pretty good. What should I call you, drifter?"
"Smith," he says. "Smith's a good name."
Days go by and turn into weeks. From time to time the Widow Snodgrass watches from the doorway as Drifter Smith goes about his chores, sometimes with his shirt off if the day's hot. He takes his meals on the porch, not in the house; but she sets a table for him with a little checked cloth, and the meals are good, and she watches him trudge off to the barn last thing at night where he'll sleep good and deep on piled straw.
One night Drifter Smith says he's going into town to take care of some business. The Widow doesn't ask what that business might be. It's late, awfully late, when he gets back; but there's a light burning in the window when he comes, and as he's getting off his horse the door opens and she's standing there, back-lit by the faint glow from inside the house. "Come in here, Drifter Smith," she says in a tiny voice.
He goes in the farmhouse and closes the door behind him with the softest of clicks. Her eyes seem to burn in the lamplight and her voice trembles a mite. "Smith," she says, "take off my coat."
He does as she says. Then she says, "Smith, take off my shoes." And he does as she says.
He carries on doing as she says, while she tells him, in a voice increasingly unsteady, to take off her dress, her slip, her stockings, her garter-belt... and at the last she stutters a little as she says, "Smith, take off my... my underthings."
And he does as he says, and she's standing there before him unable to say another word, until at last she manages to blurt out:
"and, Drifter Smith, if you ever go into town wearing my clothes again, I'll fire you without notice!".
