Big Jo's Home on the Range

Firstly, I'm trying to finish the late RecHiker's story "Home on the Range", but from a different perspective. I hope that I don't hurt anyone's feelings with what I'm going to write, but I feel this is mostly the direction that he was going in.

RecHiker didn't give an exact time frame for the story, but based on Frank's 2008 GMC Sierra 3500HD SLT crew cab, and the fact that as I write this in 2025 my daily driver is a 2007 Ford F-150, I'm going to assume that the time line of the main body of the story with the younger, 18 year old, Brittany Benson is, or at least was roughly, contemporary with 2019, which is where I'll start.

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This is a work of fiction. Any sexual activities described will be between persons of at least 18 years of age. Depictions of incest may be depicted.

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It was early evening in June of 2040, as I, wearing only a pair of Crocs and my old dog tags, stepped out of my modular home near Lake Campbell on the Campbell Ranch in Texas. I looked over at my neighbors. (who were all equally naked) and waved. There were a total of four identical modular homes by the lake; mine, Brad and Becky Jones's, Mike and Nicole Snyder's, and Steve and Juanita Moore's. They all waved back as they did their usual evening activities of sitting on their porches, enjoying the sunset, and listening to all of our kids skinny dipping down at the lake. As I listened to them hoot and holler, I watched as my eldest, Charlene (Charlie for short, and named after her father) slipped away. I knew where she was heading, who she was going to see, and what they were likely to do, and it didn't bother me in the least. If I were to be honest, it brought joy to my heart to see her go knowing that she might make me a grandmother this time.

I stepped down off of the porch and got onto my UTV, and started it up.

"Where you headed Jo," asked Becky Jones as she stepped off her porch and walked up to me?

"I'm heading up to see Britt up at the house."

"What for," she asked?

"It seems that since Frank Jr. came home from college today, and my Charlie is intent on making me a grandma," was my reply.

"Good for her," she said, "I think," she finished when she looked at my face.

I then smiled at her and said, "I'm just funnin' with ya' Beck. I agree 'Good for her.' I'm the one to tell you from experience that having babies is a young woman thing. Having them when you're over 30 sucks, it's still an incredibly happy thing to hold the life that grew in you, but the recovery still just plain sucks.

"It wasn't fun and games for me either, and I was in my 20s at the time of my first child." she said.

"But would you trade those yahoos down there in the lake for anything would you Beck?"

"Not on your life Jo"

"Neither would I Beck," I said as I put the UTV into gear. "Neither would I," I finished as I started up to the house.

As I drove, I soon saw the shapely ass of my 19 year old daughter. Her hazel eyes, mocha colored skin, and long frizzy brown hair spoke of her mixed race heritage. She was an absolutely gorgeous, physically fit young woman of 6 foot 1.

As I pulled up to her she flagged me down, "Where are you headed momma," she asked as I slowed down?

"I'm headed up to talk with Britt."

"Can I hitch a ride momma?"

I looked at her, smiled, shook my head and said, "No, Charlene, you cannot. I know exactly where you're going, who you're going to see, and what y'all are going to do."

"But momma, can't I just get a ride?"

"Baby girl, I love you with all of my heart. While I actually approve of what the two of you plan to do. But there's nothing that says that I have to facilitate it either," I said as I pulled off.

"But momma," she yelled at me.

When I got to the house I parked the UTV and mounted the stairs and Britt (as naked as I was) said, "Hey Jo, what brings you up to the house at this time of the evening?"

"I've come to ask you if you want to watch a show?"

"What show," she asked?

"Just wait she'll be along soon," I said conspiratorially.

"Who'll be along soon," she asked?

"I heard that Frank Jr. came home from college today, is he staying in Snakes old place?"

"He is," she said a questioning look on her face, "Who's coming," she asked again?

"Charlene," was all that I said.

The look on her face was priceless and she asked, "Would you like a beer?"

"I'd love a beer," I said before she headed I to the house to get me one.

As she handed it to me she said, "When he came home he said that a young college man shouldn't stay in his mother's house when there is a perfectly good apartment nearby."

I took a sip of my beer and turned to look at the stairs to the apartment and saw a certain mocha skinned beauty start to ascend them, "There she is," I said pointing my 19 year old daughter out to Britt.

"Those two," she said. "I remember both of them suckling from my breasts simultaneously."

"I do too," I said, "So how do you feel about becoming a grandma?"

"You still don't believe in birth control?"

"No, Britt, I don't," I said, as the tears started, "I saw too many of bodies over there, ours and theirs both. I'd much rather see a life created than extinguished."

She hugged me and said, "I am ready to be a grandmother whenever it happens Jo, I hope that you are too."

I hugged my employer and friend of the last twenty years and said, "Thanks Britt, I am too" and kissed the top if her head.

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I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce myself. My name is Earline Josephine Wright, but everyone calls me Jo. They sometimes call me Big Jo, because I'm 6 foot 4 inches tall, and after three pregnancies and 51 years on this planet, I weigh around 225 lbs., but also I have both the biggest tits and biggest muscles that most folks have seen on a woman.

A little bit about myself before I go any further. I'm a tom boy and always have been. I'm also a working cowgirl, not one of those barrel riders, and have been for the most of my life, starting back when I was a girl. My grandfather had a small (1500 acre) spread along the west bank of the Arkansas (pronounced Are-Kansas) river south of the little town of Mulvane Kansas. As a kid, I spent as much time there as I could, helping out around the farm, learning to ride horses, and learning to shoot grandpa's guns. One thing I'll always remember grandpa saying is that all a cowboy ever needs is one good rifle, one good shotgun and one good pistol.

Remember, I said that I spent "as much time as I could," because my father was active duty USAF, and we moved several times while I was growing up. My earliest memories are of Dalzell South Carolina out side of Sumter SC where Shaw AFB is. In 1994, we moved to Ramstein AB in Germany, and in 1998, we moved back home to McConnell AFB Kansas near my grand parents' farm.

So for about five years I spent all of my time not in school or studying helping dad and grandpa on the farm, however in 2004, during my freshman year of high school, dad got orders to the UK. We went (I didn't really want to at the time) and had an educational experience (including seeing castles and other historical places a day trip at a time).

I graduated from an American High-school in Germany in 2007 with a 3.0 GPA, and enlisted into the USAF to be a Security Forces member, (we had a four generation family tradition of being USAAF & USAF Military Police/Air Police/Security Police/Security Forces, starting with my great grandfather). During my time in the USAF, I spent a year in Korea, then to the missile field at Minot AFB ND for a couple of years (from where I deployed to Afghanistan and Iraq). I later got assigned to then to Aviano AB Italy (where I discovered that I enjoy going topless on the beach, much to the delight of the rest of the guys on my flight). I finally got sent back to the missile field at Minot AFB North Dakota. I re-upped once when it was offered to me, but after all that I'd seen and done, I rode put my time until they discharged me from the service after a little over 9 years.

After I got out of the USAF, I headed home to Kansas, and helped out on the farm until my grandfather died about six months after I got out of the service. With him gone, the farm just didn't 't feel the same, so I packed up my belongs (including my "one good rifle" a stainless steel and synthetic stocked Ruger Mini-30, my "one good shotgun" a stainless steel and synthetic stocked 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster and my "one good pistol" a.357 Magnum Ruger KGP-141) into my rebuilt (by my dad) 1989 Ford F-Super Duty Crew Cab with"four wheel drive, an 8 foot flat bed and goose-neck hitch. Dad found one that was built the month and year that I was born. Because I was his "little girl," he made certain that it was powerful enough to pull my fully loaded combination camper and horse trailer (the forward portion was a camper while the rear portion was for a pair of horses and their tack) while fully loaded itself, and still have power, so it had the 7.5 liter Ford 385 V-8 engine in it. Once I had my combination camper and horse trailer hitched up to it, I loaded up my horse and his tack and headed south for work. I first headed into Oklahoma and later made my way down into Texas. I spent a little over a year working on various cattle and horse ranches and farms, until I found permanent work on the Campbell ranch.

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Monday morning, 24 June 2019.

It was about 7:30 in the morning when I pulled into the small dusty Texas town, in late June. I'd left the rest stop outside the moderately sized city at 4:30, driven two hours down the interstate, and then an hour down an arrow straight country road that paralleled the rail line to this small town of 276 people. I'd driven all this way on the hopes of finding a job. I'd picked the town out at random, and knew that I should check the local feed store to look for work. I immediately spotted a feed store, and pulled in to buy some feed for my horse (I did have a steady, though meager (European lotteries aren't intended to make you rich, just better off) stream of income, in the form of monthly payments from winning the "Toto Loto" lottery in Germany shortly after my eighteenth birthday).

As I got out of my truck I was dressed in my usual traveling clothes of an a tight fitting white cotton men's size XL tank top under shirt, no bra, white cotton "granny panties," khaki Dickie's carpenter jeans, Wolverine safety toe work boots. Covering my short brown hair was a multi-cam boonie hat worn "Gabby Hayes" style with the chin strap around the back of my head. The only "jewelry" that I wore was my dog tags.

As the door opened for me to step in a bell rang and a teenage worker there said in a thick Texas drawl, "I'll be right with you sir."

I looked down at the two braless G cup lumps on my chest that were stretching my men's XL tank top under shirt to its maximum, and said, "Young man, I think that you need to go get your eyes checked."

He spun around and stared at me and said, "Holy shit you're a girl."

I looked at the young man, smiled at him, and said, "Boy, either you REALLY do need glasses, or you're the smoothest teenager around, because at 30, I haven't considered myself a 'GIRL' for quite a while now."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he stuttered, staring at the 'dumbbell' piercings in both of my nipples that were clearly visible through my under shirt, "what can I help you with."

"A couple of things, really," I started, "firstly I need some hay and feed for my horse out in the trailer, secondly I'd like to know the directions to the nearest diner, and thirdly I need a job. Do you know of anyone around here that's hiring?"

"You're in luck ma'am," he drawled, "because I can help you with all of that. How much feed and hay do you need ma'am?

"If there's a job near by, a 50 lbs. bag of feed and a bale of hay should do until I get 'Big Boy' out there stabled," I said.

"The hay and feed are out back, just pull around and I'll get them loaded for you," he said pointing to the back of the store. "The diner is just down the street," he said walking to the front of the store and pointing at it, "And as to a job, I hear that Frank Campbell is hiring."

I looked at him, but before I could ask the question he volunteered, "He's a local rancher. He stopped in a few days ago and said that he's looking to put on four hired hands full time. I'll give you his number if you're interested."

"Oh, I'm interested, young man," I said, "I'll need either directions to his place, or his phone number please?"

"Sure thing ma'am," he said before scribbling a phone number an a piece of paper and handing it to me.

"Thanks a lot for the number, how much do I owe you?"

He told me the price, I paid it, and went back out to my truck and pulled around behind the store. He met me with a bale of hay, and the bag of feed. He was obviously having difficulty handling them, so I stepped down from my truck, walked up to him, and easily slung the 50 lbs. bag of feed over my shoulder and said, "Follow me boy." I walked up to the trailer spoke to 'Big Boy' and put the feed were it should go, and then turned around and picked up the hay bale just as easily and placed it where it needed to go. I then turned to the young man and said, "Thanks for the help, hope to see you around again sometime," before I climbed back up into the van and headed to the diner.

When I stopped in front of the diner I fed 'Big Boy,' then went in to get some breakfast. The place was nice, exactly what you'd expect to find in small town America. There were a couple of men drinking coffee, and talking at the bar. "The regulars," I thought to myself.

As the old men turned their attention to me one said, "Damn! Now that's a woman."

The other said, "They didn't make them like that when I was young."

"Hell Zeke," said the first, "you were never young enough for that, even when you were in your prime, a woman like that would've killed you."

"I'd have died happy though," beamed Zeke.

His friend looked at him and said, "You do have a point there Zeke."

As I passed them I stopped, leaned over between them and said, "Thanks for the compliments fellas," kissed each of them on the cheek nearest me, and followed up with, "Hell fellas, if you two were a little younger I'd take you out to my rig out there and let you tag team me. Alas that won't happen because I don't want to Snu-Snu a couple of nice elderly gentlemen such as yourselves to death," (oh, did I forget to mention that I'm a grade "A" genuine SLUT). I then stood back up and took a seat a few seats down from them at the bar.

The waitress came over to me and said, "That's the damnedest entrance I've ever seen in here, and that includes Frank Campbell's granddaughter Brittany who's been barely dressed every time she's been in here," before she asked, "What can I get for you hun?"

I looked at her and said, "Bacon, scrambled eggs with salsa and toast would be fine, ma'am."

"Would you like something to drink with that," she asked?

"Black coffee would be fine ma'am."

She turned to pour my cup of coffee and yelled my order to the cook who started my order. When she came back with my coffee she said, "You're new in town. Are you passing through or looking for work."

"Yeah, I just got into town about half an hour ago, and I'm actually looking for work," I said. "The young man down at the feed store told me that Frank Campbell is hiring four full time hands, and gave me his number."

"Frank's good people," she said anticipating my next question, "He's got a decent sized spread, nothing like the four 6s though."

I'd been in Texas long enough to know about the four 6s.

She continued, "He's out there with his granddaughter Britt, who I mentioned before, and old Snake, though he may have already hired a young couple who were in here the other night."

"Snake, is that his dog," I asked?

"No hun," she said, "Snake is his hired hand, but both of them are getting older, and since his wife passed a month or so ago. I figure that Frank is hiring four younger folks to take the work load off of him and Snake."

At that point the cook yelled order up, and the waitress turned to get my food and set it in front of me. I ate quietly, and afterwards, pulled out my cell phone, and called Frank Campbell's number.

A young woman WITHOUT a Texas drawl answered, "Campbell ranch."

"Hello," I said, "are you Ms. Campbell?"

"Oh no," she said, "I'm Brittany Benson, but everyone just calls me Britt though."

"Well, my name is Josephine Wright, and everyone just calls me Jo or Big Jo." I said. "I'm calling because some folks here in town said that y'all were looking to put on some full time help, and I'm interested in a job."

"We are," Britt said. "We'll be too busy to interview you this morning, because we did a little round up Saturday, and, Spike called to get beef prices. He's going to sell the cattle that we rounded up. The trucks should be here around 11:00 to pick them up." She paused a moment and then said, "If you get here soon enough, Spike and I can see how you ride and herd cattle, and if he likes what he sees, we can interview you afterwards."

"Sounds good to me. I'm much appreciated for the chance." I said, "But who is Spike? I thought that the ranch owner was Frank Campbell."

"Oh," she said, "Spike is my nickname for Frank. He and I are co-owners of the ranch."

"Okay," I said, "I'm at the diner in town, and once I pay my bill, and get directions, then I'll be enroute."

"Okay," she said, "See you soon," and hung up the phone.

As I finished my coffee Britt's flat accent hit me, "She's a Midwesterner," I said to myself. I paid my bill and asked for directions out to the Campbell ranch.

The directions were fairly straight forward, and I was soon pulling up in front of a typical farm house. The first thing that I noticed were two topless women wearing only blue jeans and riding boots leading their horses out of the barn.

As I shut off the truck, one of them, a pretty blonde, approached and said, "You must be Jo?"

"And you must be Britt," I said, "I don't expect to meet many Midwesterners around here. You're from somewhere along the Ohio River Valley I'd guess"

She looked at me skeptically and said, "Close but not quite, how did you know?"

I said, "I spent nearly a decade in the USAF, and you pick up on accents along the way," as I got out of the truck.

Once I was standing on the ground, Britt looked up at me and said "Holy shit, you weren't kidding when you said some people call you Big Jo."

The other young woman, a brunette, came around the truck, looked at me and said, "Holy fuck."

I looked at the two of them and asked, "Is being topless the uniform of the day for women around here?"

"No, it isn't," said an older man who walked around the truck to meet me. He held out his hand and said, "I'm Frank Campbell, folks around here call me Spike, this is my co-owner Brittany Benson, folks call her Britt, and this is one of our new employees Nicole Snyder, her husband Mark is around here somewhere."

I shook each of their hands, and said "I'm Josephine Wright," then stopped and restarted, "Well it's actually Earline Josephine Wright, and most just folks just call me Jo., though some call me Big Jo for obvious reasons."

"How tall are you Jo," Frank asked.

"Mr. Campbell," I said smiling, "Don't you know you're not supposed to ask about a woman's weight?"

"I asked you how tall you were," a puzzled expression on his face.

"I'm just funnin' with ya ' Mr. Campbell," I said, "but I'm 6 foot 4, and weigh 185 lbs."

He looked at the muscles in my arms, and said, "We need to get the cattle from the pasture that I put them in to the pasture where the cattle chutes are. So are you ready to work.