Well, it is now 1936 and since Ralph Horce dumped me just before the barn raising I am hoping that this year will bring better things than 1935. I know how to take a horse’s temperature both orally and rectally, I know the best way to treat saddle burn and I can keep my uniform white even after these god damn dust storms.
So far, the job out here in the wild west isn’t quite living up to the description in the help wanted ad. How many broken bones does a bronc rider have to get before finding another line of work?
While the men out here are pretty rough and ready (if you know what I mean) most are as dumb as a box of rocks. A roll in the hay is fun the first time around, but it gets old pretty quick, when that is the softest thing to lay on for 100 miles.
As soon as the last cattle drive is over I am looking for greener pastures to milk my cow. I used to think that a ‘bad boy’ would make a good husband, but now I am not so sure.
(inspired by a series of book covers I found on Pinterest)